


Weathered, and Worthy

by RichmanBachard



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Backstory, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Crush at First Sight, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Flirting, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Immortal Flames, Implied Relationships, Journal Entries, POV Multiple, Prequel, Rookies Have to Prove Themselves, Team Bonding, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, squad antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichmanBachard/pseuds/RichmanBachard
Summary: A group of Immortal Flame rookies looking to prove themselves, are tasked with a mission that was supposed to be simple.It becomes far more complicated.





	1. Lenus

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel story featuring several OC’s, mine included, set before a majority of the events in-game. Every chapter will more or less be structured around the POV of a different character each time.

She was so.. pretty. 

Were Lenus not careful, he was sure he would lose himself in the sea that was her deep, chestnut-colored eyes. He could stare for hours. He probably had been. It was rude to stare - he knew that - but he found himself a weak man in the moment. A minor failing. Unfortunately for him over the last few weeks, many failings were had. His eyes tracked her every move. Delicate, but forceful. Precise, but sloppy. Her movements told him much about her. In the first few weeks she was cold, most of all to the likes of him. Any compliment he would give, any chance to try and make friends, she would deny. And yet she worked well with him, and the others. Even growing found of the squad’s healer. A captivating contradiction, that’s who she was to him. Watching her elegance and beauty fall to the wayside as she devoured a piece of bread. 

_Beautiful,_ he thought. 

He—

“Lenus,” called his Roegadyn comrade who was close by, snapping the Hyur’s focus back to the present moment. “Are you.. all right?” 

Lenus shook his head, averting his gaze from the Viera’s just before she had stared right back. Instead, his gaze moved towards his gear, and his hands continued to move, prepping what was left. “Yeah, y-yeah.. Mathias, I am fine, just-“

Mathias pursed his lips, then briefly cast his crimson eyes towards the object of his fellow soldiers affection. A corner of his mouth upturned slightly, at that. With a shake of his own head he glanced back at the lowly Hyur. “Later. Garred wants us sharp out there. So.. focus. Okay?”

Garred. Right. Lenus rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sure, okay. But only ‘cause you said so, and not him.” The Hyur’s quip made his taller brethren chuckle, if only a touch.

An Elezen entered, then, draping her arms around the other two to the best of her ability. And reach. Mostly reach. “Not a fan of Garred’s hardassery?” asked the lass, as she sported a proud grin. “Color me surprised.”

Mathias‘ subsequent laugh felt as if it could rattle Lenus’ bones. “Not really, no,” the Hyur replied with his own chuckle. “And his jokes are bad.”

The three of them agreed on that much.

The trio ventured over towards their fourth squad-mate. She had kept her distance almost the entire portion of their prep-time. Par the course, Lenus thought. She was busying herself with the sharpening of her many blades.

“Artemis,” Mathias called. The clink of her blade against the sharpening-tool filling the silence between him and her. Her eyes met his after he called her name once more. “Are you well?” he asked, “and ready?”

Her gaze remained fixed on him, then quickly flittered between the two on either side of him before returning to match his line of sight. A devilish grin creased her lips. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” he replied.

“Ready to _kill._ ”

Mathias pointed, his eyes widening. “N-No killing!” Amidst his command came laughs from the other three. “Not this time! Garred’s directions were clear. This isn’t a—“

“‘ _Garred’s directions were clear’_ ,” she repeated, mocking him. “I _know_ , you fool, but that doesn’t mean I’m not ready to throw down. Just make sure _you_ don’t get us killed first.”

Lenus went to speak then, only for Thatch to speak first. “You simply long to kill all the time, don’t you, my dear Artemis?” She wore a warm grin, which the Viera reciprocated. Lenus and Mathias chuckled at that, despite the formers mildest bit of annoyance. Or, rather, envy. Thatch was.. something else. Mostly in a good way. He respected her skill as their healer - adept in the arts of keeping others alive, something that gave even him pause. She worked well with everyone, looked out for them. Notably, Mathias. To Lenus, they all were like that. _Something else._ Especially her.. 

Artemis blew him off countless times in the past. She called him names, when she wasn’t outright ignoring him. Even after having only somewhat warmed up to the others, at most Lenus would be lucky to receive snark and criticism in equal measure. She poked fun. And yet, he could not help himself. The poor bastard found her demeanor utterly charming. Thatch fared similarly. In the Elezen it was clear she found someone as prim and eager to square up as her. Lenus couldn’t quite blame her, blame them. He was fairly milquetoast in comparison.. surely. And Mathias, well.. in Lenus’ eyes, he was good. A bit of a square. Eager to move up the ranks, eager to please. Out of a need for recognition, power, or personal satisfaction.. he did not know. But Mathias was _good._ Though Lenus would never let him know that. Never. Out of all the squad mates he could have, Lenus-

“Attention,” called their leader suddenly, and in tow the four immediately spun on-heel in order to greet him as he approached. Another Roegadyn, a brick house of a warrior. The eyepatch covering his right eye and generally sour demeanor spoke volumes in itself. Despite standing to attention, Lenus wanted nothing more than to flip him off, dreading the worst. The small noise Artemis made had signaled that, perhaps, she felt the same. Likely. 

“Garred, sir,” Mathias spoke for the squad. 

The fellow, grizzled Roegadyn looked them over - each and everyone - then addressed them all properly. “Is everyone geared up, prepared?”

They all nodded, to varying degrees. “Yes, sir,” replied Mathias, before he swallowed hard. “We are as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“All right, Mathias,” Garred began to chide. “Never overestimate the severity of such simple goals -lest you expend energy needed for more tasking matters. Just keep a clear head, and stick to the script.”

Mathias hesitated. “Yes, sir.”

Garred continued. “Today you are to venture forth, on your own, to track an away team for subsequent battle. As Flames, your adeptness in reconnaissance as well as active combat is, of, the upmost, importance.” He paused, clearing his throat rather loudly. “Today, you will be without my guide. That being said, do not mistake my absence for abandonment - for I will be watching, tracking.”

Thatch chortled. “Never too far away, hmm, sir?”

Artemis crossed her arms and gave her eyes a roll. “Doesn’t trust us, more like.”

Lenus glanced at her worriedly, before his fear became reality. “Do not be a smart mouth, Artemis,” came Garred’s harsh reply. “Or else you’ll sit this one out.” Her lips almost formed a pout in response, yet she held her tongue. Lenus could only breathe a sigh of relief at that, internal as it was. The last thing he desired was to commence such a journey without her. 

Mathias went to speak, yet was unsure of how to respond. “Of.. of course, sir. We shall do our best, that is all I can say.

Garred stepped ever so closer, handed the coordinates to the general area of where their goal might be upon his map, and then looked his second-in-command up and down. Intently, sternly. “Make it so.”

With another, drawn out pause, Garred hopped back and flashed a small, almost innocent grin. “Now show me what you’ve got!”

In tow, and to varying states of reluctance and audible groans, the four active members of the squad all performed the Flame salute at his behest. It was time to make him proud. For better, or for worse.

—

The deserts of Thanalan were scorched by the kiss of the sun, its light only semi-obscured by the occasional passing of clouds. In spite of that, the day was fairly pleasant. The party, touched by brief gusts of wind, were traveling well and with gusto. 

Artemis and Thatch were amidst a heated - though prim - battle, one of carefully crafted insults. Amongst themselves, but mostly directed towards others. Garred, and other such fools. Woe to the loser, it proved voracious. Every now and then, one would prove victorious over the other. When it was Thatch, Lenus would try to comfort the Viera, whom she disregarded with an insult only to double-back, hungry for more victories. From what Lenus could tell, Mathias had employed the process of ‘grin and bear it’ during all the chatter, his mind attempting to dwell elsewhere. From the few glances Lenus would give, the Roegadyn’s features were wracked with a particular kind of look: amidst the sea of determination and anxiousness, he anticipated something, anything. The Hyur came to his side as the party walked, trekking across the harsh terrain.

“Something on your mind?” Lenus asked, stepping over a small gap. 

“Many things,” the fresh-faced Roegadyn replied. “If I’m honest.” He brushed a thumb briefly across his bare cheek, then wiped some sweat from his brow. “Despite the breeze, this heat is unending. Just another burden to bear.”

“Y-Yeah, it is pretty bad.” Lenus paused for a fair while. “D’you think Ar.. Artemis likes warm weather much?” His voice came in slightly quieter at the mention of her. “I like it, but-“

“Lenus. Focus.”

“I am,” the Hyur spat, catching his new lead off guard at the sudden outburst. “I’m just - it’s hard! It’s hot and she’s.. _her_ and I’m nervous, and-“

“We are all nervous, Lenus. I’m nervous. Get out of your head, just.. just focus.”

“You keep saying that. Focus on what?”

Mathias audibly hummed a faint grumble. After a small beat, the Roegadyn answered. “On the moment, the here and now. One second after the next. What we want will come later. What matters is what we do in order to get there.”

Lenus shot back, frustrated. “Not everyone here cares about making as incredible an impression as you, y’know.” 

“And not everyone here is occupied with a meager crush while there are other, more important matters.” Mathias paused. “Yet here we are.”

Lenus could almost gasp. The insult rolled itself around in his head, twisted his nerves. A crush? Seven hells. He had felt it, of course he had. But to air itself, make itself known, saying it aloud.. it gave the notion power. More power than he personally would have preferred. Lenus held his tongue, grimly pursing his lips. The two remained silent as they walked, a good distance from the chatter of the others, out of earshot. After some time however, the Hyur spoke once more. “So.. you are nervous too, huh..? I mean.. of course you are, it’s just- I’m sorry.”

Mathias expelled a shaken breath, as the squad passed by a school of cactuar. In the background Artemis and Thatch could be heard giggling and poking fun at the sight of them. Rather, Thatch had been - Artemis remained quiet, unnerved. “Don’t be,” Mathias replied finally. “There is much to prove - for myself especially. Mostly. I.. I know that - and we are all.. well, it’s been rough and..” He sighed. Then hummed, mildly. Letting the sentence go, opting instead to gaze through his view-finders to scout the surrounding areas. 

Lenus himself took another breath, slowing the beat of his heart. “I won’t let you down.”

Mathias tucked the view-finders away, into his bag. “Nor I you, my friend.” Friend. For Lenus, that sounded.. nice. 

It could be. One day. 

The quiet moment between the Roegadyn and Hyur was shortly interrupted, however. Up came a slap on the Roegadyn’s back from Artemis, followed by several coy words from Thatch. Mathias almost jumped. Lenus did. 

“We should be careful,” Artemis offered, catching Lenus and Mathias off-guard as her sincerity slipped through. “Those cactuar might be funny-looking to you, but they’re.. terrifying, much like the other beasts here in the wilds. And those beasts can back up their bark with quite the ferocious bite.”

Lenus smiled. “Are you sure you’re not just describing yourself?” His response brought a laugh out of Thatch. Artemis shot the Hyur a mildly playful - seven hells, he hoped it was playful - look of malice, and set her hands upon her hips. Mathias acknowledged her comment with directness and enthusiasm, giving her a nod, ignoring Lenus’s attempted snark. Together, the four party members stood side-by-side, shoulder to shoulder as they overlooked the forthcoming terrain, vast and sweeping as it was. Mathias’ eyes briefly glossed over his map, all the scribbles and details added by him adorning the withered material. The heat did little to undo the beauty of the scene: skies without blemish, looming mountain-tops far in the distance. There was much reconnaissance to be done. The path laid before them perilous and obfuscated. Par the course, given Garred’s request and design. Thatch’s ears prickled at the sound of something. 

“Come, team,” Mathias started. “Let us press on.”

—

In the midst of their travels, the party had found themselves dispatched by bandits. Unfortunately for them, it fared horribly as a surprise attack - for Thatch’s warning of something coming their way had done much to counter the bandits’ plan. That said, the the onslaught proved difficult nonetheless. 

“Get behind me!” Mathias commanded, as the four were alongside a mountainous ridge, bandits above. The Roegadyn brandished his shield to block any and all oncoming arrows. He grumbled, swallowing hard as he dug in, drawing more attention to himself as Thatch supplied him with the healing he required. With his free hand, he cut sharply at two bandits close by, eager for kills, themselves. Despite that, more rushed in - dozens more. Mathias pushed, making himself a wall which forced their advance back, throwing more targets onto his person. “Artemis, Lenus - cover the stragglers..!” His command came clearly, but had fallen upon deaf ears. His brows sharpened with concern.

Thatch dodged a lone arrow, in her zone as magic spewed from her midst, masterfully weaving spell upon spell to shroud themselves in added defense. “Looks like they beat you to the punch!” Her words drew his eyes from the bandits - bloodied and failing as they were - towards his other two dealers of damage, caught almost in a competition with each other. 

“Seven hells,” he simply said, using his strength to overwhelm the foes before him. Mathias sliced one across his neck, then collapsed the others chest in with a hard punch. “Lenus! Artemis!” He edged closer towards them, keeping a cone of safety for Thatch to follow through. 

Artemis had drawn a wider array of aggression with the enemy force, dodging and weaving as she did so. Lenus was not far behind - out of competition and concern in equal measure. He caught her laugh, a devilish snicker as she sliced and punched into one bandit after another, despite receiving cuts of her own. The two were going to be overwhelmed soon, he knew that. She likely did as well, but perhaps she didn’t care? He admired her strength and steadfastness, but-

The hilt of a pommel knocked the Hyur in the back of the head, sending him to the ground. Artemis caught wind, barely deflecting another, oncoming sword strike. Thatch did her best to provide support from afar, despite taking a few more ranged hits herself. 

The Viera performed a roundhouse kick upon another bandit, sending him flying into two more as she went to aid Lenus. To get chagrin, a bulkier, larger member of the enemy faction stepped into view, kicking Lenus away. She growled, launching herself at his advance. He heaved a heavy, sinister laugh as he elbowed her away, smacking hard against the rocky terrain of the ground. “Kill my friends, will ya? You two’ll regret that!” 

Before the brickhouse bandit could swing his claymore, a shield swooped in from the side - crashing hard into him, rattling the foe. In response he mustered enough strength to slap it away, the shield falling to the floor as Mathias charged in with a powerful kick which knocked the foe back. “Arte, Len,” Mathias said through gritted teeth, holding the oppressor back. “Cover Thatch, she needs your support!” It was then Mathias was clocked in the face with a hard right hook. The Hyur and Viera scrambled away, living to fight another battle. Just so happened, that next battle was now. They scurried to dispatch the bandits attempting to encircle the Elezen. To her credit she had already taken two down, but the forces were growing to unbearable levels. 

As Mathias hogged the remaining attention from afar, the others moved. Artemis; angrily. Lenus; worriedly. His eyes followed every present moment, one after the next. Cooling his breath, clearing his head. He moved from one bandit to the next. His second-wind fortunately coming at the right time. His attacks remained fierce despite his bruises, and Artemis had fared the same. Her motions were irritated, filled with malice and spite. She took her foes down, much more sloppily than he, but Lenus was not one to complain. Thatch kept them alive dutifully, taking a small, shaken breath as her bandits were vanquished. 

Left standing was none other than the brick-shithouse of a bandit that was the leader. The other three went to assist, rushing as fast as they could. He swung his claymore upwards, which Mathias barely managed to dodge. The tip of the blade kissed the side of his cheek with a sharp scrape. In doing so, the bandit leader had to recoil from the suspension of weight, which Mathias took advantage of. The Roegadyn managed to lodge his axe into the side of the leader’s neck. The action caused the leader to roar with another sinister laugh. He countered, going for another swing. Much to his dismay, the leader was foiled by another axe upon Mathias’ person. With his other hand free from any shield, it allowed him to brandish a smaller axe from his belt to jam into the leaders occupied wrist. He recoiled in pain as the metal sawed through, dug into the flesh. The claymore drooped from his hand, clattering to the floor in a loud thud.

As such, Mathias kicked him back. From the force, the leader fell upon the rock behind him, his head hanging off it. Before he could roar with another laugh, or - Gods forbid - a comment, Mathias raised his leg up to stomp down upon the leaders head, snapping it back against the terrain. 

The party had watched, having caught up to him. All heaving, all cut with scrapes and bruises. The four breathed a sigh of relief at the close of battle. Mathias turned, giving them all a tired nod. He wanted to chide, to toss an annoyed remark, but found little meaning so soon after combat. Artemis gave him a knowing look. _No killing, ha._ Thatch approached, quickly rubbing her thumb across the cut upon his face. She nodded. “It’ll give you character.” 

The four chuckled at that.

And from afar, Garred watched with added intent.

—

The party healed up, taking a short rest before continuing on. The sun shifted from one side to nestle above them atop high noon before they proceeded further. The Roegadyn shared a few words with the others, out of concern as well as strategy. The debate that followed was quick, but not as heated as Lenus might have expected. They needed to do better, but they were getting there. A strategy to refine, to tinker away with. On his own, Lenus chided himself above it all. He was sure the others would have done the same. Working in such a group could prove arduous. Seven hells, it already had, but the effort was worthwhile. Things turned amicably, and some time was had.

Having rested, it wasn’t long before the four were off - eager to put a close to the task at hand. Checking his map another few times, Mathias remarked that they were nearing the desired area. He and Thatch buried themselves with conversation as they walked ahead. Behind them, Lenus and Artemis were side by side - his brows furrowed, hers annoyed.

“I’m just saying.. if you tried it like that, perhaps it would be bett-“

“Shut up.”

Lenus held his tongue, sighing through his nostrils. He paused for a beat. “Okay, but-“

“No.”

His next exhale was louder. “I’m only trying to help—!”

Artemis cut him off again. Thrice now. “I know. Now cease your rambling.”

Lenus held his arms out, incredulously, as she walked ahead of him. 

Ahead, the Viera caught up with the others, catching wind of Thatch’s last few words to Mathias. “..fear not, we shall.”

“Are we there yet?” asked Artemis.

Mathias gave his map another look, then Thatch took a gander at it. Artemis tried to peak through, gathering a look of her own. “Aye. We’re inside the search zone now,” Mathias confirmed. “Everyone, gather ‘round.” Lenus came upon them at his call. “We’re here. It’s- it’s wide, but shouldn’t be too difficult. The Flames could be anywhere, but-“

“Where do _you_ think they would be?” Lenus inquired. 

“Everywhere and nowhere at once,” came a sudden quip from Artemis. “Though, more than likely, obscured by a single rock. Maybe a pebble.“

Lenus looked at her, mouthing the word ‘what?’

Thatch wore a small smile. “Several pebbles, perhaps.” She briefly tapped at her chin, looking the map over once more. “The element of surprise would be lost on them. I wouldn’t expect something so complicated, nor obtuse..” She glanced upwards, her eyes scanning the nearby field of view, before looking over the map again. She pointed at a particular spot. “Here, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Mathias mirrored. “Artemis, you and I can scout ahead, then. Lenus and Thatch, can you two bring up the rear?” Despite one of them almost snickering, they nodded. “Good,” he replied. “We simply need to keep our eyes and ears peeled.” The Viera offered him a snarky, two-finger salute. He ignored that. “Let’s see if this fares considerably easier than bandits..”

Much to Mathias’ dismay, the opposite had been true. 

The other Flames were found, with relative ease. Far too much ease. 

As they were found, broken and battered. All dead except for one. He was not long for the world as the party rushed in, surveying the area as Mathias and Thatch tended to the lone survivor.

“Glrk,” the Flame managed. “Mu.. Mathi..”

The Roegadyn and Elezen were on either side of him, in his final moments. She did what she could, but, as she locked eyes with Mathias, he knew it was too late. As the coast had been clear, Lenus watched - their faces, his final moments, every waking moment. He could do nothing but purse his lips negatively, into a frown.

“Who.” Mathias questioned.

“G.. Garleans..” the Flame barely managed, croaking the words out. Despite Thatch’s spell putting his pain at ease, her magic still recovering. With his time falling short, he attempted to reach a hand out - at something, something neither of them were quite sure. And, like that, the hand fell limp. Their comrade had passed. 

Lenus closed the gap, easing towards them even as Artemis kept her distance, searching for something. Mathias squeezed his hand into a tight, balled fist. And, behind the Hyur, there Garred stood - shocked. The three squad members all glancing towards him.

Their captain was nearly at a loss for words, only managing his usual remark of ‘seven hells’, before anything else. “Garred,” Thatch said. “This is..”

“Found their tracks,” Artemis stated, meeting them all. “Can’t have gone far. We should go after them.” 

“No.” Garred’s reply was immediate and cold. Instantly deflecting. “We cannot. Not only are we-“

“Bullshit,” Artemis said. Lenus almost gasped, despite wanting to agree. He wanted to. But his fear tempered his need for action. 

“Not only are we likely outnumbered, we lack ample supply as well. I.. I could not have foreseen this, it- they shouldn’t have come this far-“

Mathias glossed his hand over the face of their fallen comrade, closing his eyes. Then the Roegadyn stood. “Artemis is right.”

“Mathias!”

“No!” the second in-command shot back. His chest quietly heaved, as he considered his next few words carefully. He glanced over. “How many soldiers?” he asked, directing it towards the Viera.

“No more than seven,” she replied. “Could be more, but, it’s unlikely to be an entire squadron. A forward-base camp, maybe?”

Mathias nodded slowly, giving his chin a rub. “We have the supply, we have the manpower. This.. this cannot do, we cannot let them get away with-“

“Eager to prove yourself,” Garred replied. “Too eager.”

Lenus snapped, at that, moving over to face the captain. “He’s not the only one!” To the best of his ability, the Hyur gave his chest a shove. “Seven hells, Artemis and Mathias are right - we can’t let those Garlean bastards get away with this! You wanted us to prove ourselves. This is our chance! Forget a sparring match! This, _this,_ should test our mettle!”

Thatch stood by them, as all four squad members faced the captain. “We are immortal, for our flames will never be snuffed out. That is what you tell us, Garred - who would we be, were we not to follow-through?” 

Garred groaned, stepping back. He looked at them - each and everyone - up and down, then shook his head. “All right. All right.. fine.”

“We were going to, sir,” Mathias said. “Whether you liked it or not.” Garred’s eyes widened at that, and so his fellow Roegadyn smiled. “Glad you could join us.”

“We should put these Flames to rest,” Thatch added thoughtfully. “Reserve a proper burial for each and everyone.“

Mathias nodded, and spoke before Garred could. “We shall. But for now.. let us press on.” He locked eyes with Artemis, who gave her own affirming nod, knowing full-well that the tracks would be followed.

—

The sun soon began to set upon the lands of Thanalan, giving way to darkness. In that darkness, the squad were allowed their own element of surprise as they came upon the small Garlean camp. Hunkering down, the five of them took cover upon the ridge above the camp, gathering a plentiful view of what they were working with. 

Gathered around, all packed with view-finders, they scanned the environment before putting the finders away. “All right, sir,” Mathias started. “What’s the play?”

Garred grumbled, then locked eyes with his fellow Roegadyn. “You tell us, Mathias. You wanted this. Now prove it.”

Mathias almost choked, caught off-guard by his admission. “Well, I..” He paused, stopping himself. Lenus looked at him, placing a hand upon his broad shoulder, giving him a reassuring nod.

Mathias accepted the kind gesture, taking a moment to himself to think. He looked down upon the camp, scanning side to side, then returned his gaze to the rest of the squad. “Okay, here is what we do..”

—

“Too right, mate,” one Garlean said to the other, taking a swig of ale. “We’ll show them soon enough.”

“Not before I get to see my lass again,” the other replied. “I get nervous if I go without seeing her very often.”

“Ack, it’s just this land. It feels claustrophobic, yet empty - it’s shite. You’ll see her, don’t...”

The guard arched a brow. “..don’t what?”

His fellow Garlean tapped him twice, urging him to turn. He did as such, spotting the approaching Roegadyn. “What the- who..” He stood up despite being urged not to. “Oy, who the blazes are you? Big fella, huh.” He walked forward, his arms stretched out. “You lost, that it?”

Mathias pressed on, stepping closer in order to close the gap. “Aye, it would seem so..” He looked left, then right, before meeting the guards gaze. “Forgive me.“

The guard snickered. “I’ll forgive you, ya big fucker. Mosey on outta here, lest you desire this night to be your last. Is that what you want?”

Mathias peered, smiling. “In a way.” And in seconds, with a loud click of his tongue, an arrow soon shot out from the dark - lodging itself square in the neck of the Garlean guard. Blood squirted from the wound as well as his mouth, as he fell to his knees. The rest of the camp soon came alive, many fellow guards rushing out despite some of them faring poorly as a result from a mild bout of drinking.

Mathias armed himself, brandishing his shield and axe. Thatch came into view, fighting alongside him as - from afar, Garred took shots with his trusty bow, and Artemis and Lenus worked as a pair, blindsiding several of their foes. 

That night, the team worked well together. Their fellow squadmates, avenged. The plan, a success. Answers.. obscured. A bout of bad luck, as it were. The away team simply finding themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something hid behind that truth, however. Something more. The Garlean assault was growing to become a considerable problem. And for the squad, it was clear things were far from over.

Lenus only hoped they would be ready, for whatever would come next. 

—

Toying away at the fire, his stick twisting amongst the sparks and bramble. Mathias poked and prodded at the fire - his squad mates all gathered ‘round, enjoying the crisp night air after a long, eventful day. He sipped plentifully from his mug of soup—made fresh from the pot he stoved over, the last few hours. The group eagerly awaited the tasty broth, growing almost impatient. Most of all - Lenus. 

Having watched the Roegadyn’s ministrations, Lenus sipped from his own cup of broth. Taking slow, savoring sips. Under the cover of night the air wore a faint chill, in stark contrast to the scorching heat of the day. The Hyur hummed contentedly at that, at the flavor of the broth. Something quaint, a unique mixture of flavors. Artemis and Thatch, too, enjoyed the soup on offer. Seated away from the others, the Elezen tossed them a warm smile as she toyed away with her notes, scribbling the necessaries of her day into its many, faintly withered pages. 

Garred stood by, sipping away. Lenus saw that the captain shot Mathias a look. A mixture of one: somewhere between intrigue, concern, bitterness, and a begrudging respect. He walked off, going to survey the area.

Artemis was off on her own as well, a few feet away from the camp. Lenus caught wind of her, hoped she wouldn’t stray too far. After she and Mathias spoke it was clear that she stood, keeping watch. Though, even in the midst of that, she sipped from her own cup of broth all the same. 

“Think we did well?” asked Lenus, his head turned slightly towards Mathias’ view. He took another sip as he awaited the reply.

The latter man gave it thought, a mild hum coming from somewhere deep in his throat as he stirred the ladle encircling the pot. “Garred says we did, and I trust him enough not to lie over such things..”

“Sure, but..” Lenus’s eyes met his own, then, as he asked again. “Did we do well?”

Mathias smiled at that, growing more confident in his own assessment of himself and the team. _His_ team. Having granted Lenus that small sense of comfort. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

Lenus smiled the warmest smile he’d given in sometime. More confident than ever, with that sense of relief. For Lenus, things.. would seemingly be okay. 

For now.


	2. Thatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of remembrance looms, which weighs heavily upon the elezen’s mind.

The might of the sun encroached slowly upon the fleeting dark. What once had been dusk was now the coming dawn, as the night gave way to every glistening inch of light. Shadows cast upon the rocky terrain, looming large as the sun crept over the mountain tops. Its glow kissed the surrounding area with warmth, beginning to envelope the camp. Thatch cooed, savoring the cup of coffee Mathias had brewed even as the roegadyn yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was standard protocol: his treat. The two shared a look and a smile in that moment, trading their familiar calls of ‘morning’ before returning to each their own business. Of the four, she had already found herself the most alert and content to start the day. 

Par the course.

Her grip upon her quill softened, slightly, as a thought occurred to her. Then it reflexively tightened as her focus returned to the page upon her journal.

_I love the sunrise. So nourishing, methinks, that it has become my favorite time of day. The crisp, morning air does wonders for my concentration. And, as I’ve not had much time to tend to my thoughts as of late, every morning provides another chance to savor what little solace I can get for my entries._

_So.. hello, myself! ‘Tis the.. third week? my companions and I have been cast on yet another mission, another journey. To say it has not been fun would be a bold-faced lie. We groan and we ache, but distant villages we’ve visited and the wondrous sights we’ve glimpsed have ushered many a memory. ‘Tis those moments I cherish most._

_We made a proper camp not long ago, just last night after an admittedly arduous day of travel. The group is well. Mathias is seemingly more.. confident, which is good. We believe in his ability, even when he often does not. Garred remains hard on him, tries his damndest to crush the boy’s spirit in some way, but he stands evermore. Artemis teases him so, the sweet girl. (Yes; she is sweet, never you mind) Though I can hardly blame her about the tease. I do it too. He smiles at it, though, when he is not rolling those big, crimson eyes of his. Luckily, that confidence seems infectious - as Lenus, too, is faring better. After everything that has happened, I would certainly hope so._

Thatch smiled to herself, at the thought. At them. She continued, then.

_After the risk that was seeking retribution upon the Garlean forward camp, we have been.. weary. Very much so. Difficult to sleep peacefully, some nights. Garred seems tense, more than the norm at least but Artemis and Lenus have argued that his unease is misplaced. Mathias remains conflicted. I, myself, share Garred’s weariness however. Though his own stems more from fear of the chain of command methinks - where as I ... well, I fe_

“Uughh..” Artemis groaned, attempting to pull herself free from the confines of her sleeping bag. A failing effort, which Lenus - himself groggily - attempted to help. She shoved him away, managing it all on her own. Despite the fact that the sights and sounds broke her sense of concentration, she minded little. Knowing full-well that the chaos of the day would sweep them up in no time at all, with a sigh she closed her journal shut and bound it safely for a time, storing the book for later. Hopefully, in her mind, sooner.

She greeted her fellow companions with a smile, handing Artemis a cup of coffee all the same. In spite of the Viera’s already mounting annoyance - at so many things already - she mirrored the expression, if faintly. “You’ve got some sleep in your eye, dear,” Thatch said with a tease.

Artemis blew upon the contents with a deliberate slowness. Her eyes wore a playful, devious look. “Yours too.” She savored the first sip she took. “Big man’s good for something at least. The other one can barely lift a pinky without fumbling around.”  
Thatch chuckled lightly at that, continuing to kneel from where she stood as Lenus drew himself to the backdrop - his arms outstretched briefly in a show of disbelief at the viera’s words. With a sigh he shook his head and continued tending to his sleeping gear, tucking it all away.

As the girls began to share a few words, Garred had entered the camp from afar, standing near Mathias. “Morning, sir,” said the second in command, as he tended to more of the brew. The roegadyn readjusted himself upon the hump with which he sat. Garred replied with a nod, before taking a sip from his own mug. Mathias hesitated. “You never did tell me what you heard yesterday,” he finally said. “Anything.. new, of late?”

Garred drew out the anticipation of his reply, grumbling faintly as he himself took a seat. “Not much. Morganna had a few.. words, given what we did, but that seemed the most of it.” The bitterness upon his tongue was palpable with that comment, wanting to further it along. “We needn’t worry.”

Mathias couldn’t help but quirk a curious, if concerned brow. “What did you tell them?”

“Feck it, son, pay it no mind. The more I worry, just the more the brass chews and chews. S’all it means.” The captain waved a dismissive hand. “Empire be damned, best to let it fade. What comes first is your training - I must ensure you four are competent enough for what’s to come.”

“And what is to come?” asked Thatch as she neared. Lenus and Artemis had already delved into an intense conversation involving the likes of pugilist skill, allowing the Elezen to focus on more important matters. She fixed her eyes upon him - her intense, colorful gaze felt strongly by the captain as she took her place next to Mathias. She patted him upon the leg idly. “The Empire you try so hard to ignore?”

Garred hocked a spit, sending it flying elsewhere. With a wipe of his mouth, he responded in kind. “Whatever might come, Thatch, be it bandit, pirate, rabid sorcerers-“

Thatch’s face was overcome with a curious look, her eyes squinting sharply at their lead. With that, she and Mathias shared a look. She motioned her head to him in a way, signaling him to press further. “Sir, what did you tell them?” he repeated more sternly. “We have to know.” The captain did nothing but grumble. 

Again, Mathias and Thatch’s eyes briefly met in a look of minor concern. Garred grumbled once more, his face a curious sort. As if he took offense to the might of the sun itself. He stood, brushing himself off faintly before nodding towards his second in-command. “Good brew, Adler.” He took a sip. “Get the team ready soon. Practice starts at noon.” Garred shambled away, vacating the camp as quickly as he arrived. 

Par the course.

Mathias watched him leave, mildly exhaling with frustration before his eyes returned to find Thatch already doodling something into her journal again. He expelled a weary sigh, already wracked with the dread that was to come. “Something isn’t right,” he said.

Her scribbling continued, idly, yet she indulged him. “That much is clear.” Her concentration deepened, her wrist flicking side to side as the drawing continued. Still, she indulged. “A mite strange...”

Mathias hummed. “Quite.” His finger idly trailed the scar he received just weeks prior, with his other hand bringing the mug to his lips. “Mn- how is it this morning?” His head glanced over towards her, finding the woman occupied still. “Oh, I’m-I am sorry, m’lady, I did not mean to-“

Thatch laughed. “Stop it, you goose. I’m just a bit.. anxious, is all. I doodle when I am anxious. I do not mean to seem distant.” Before he could follow up his own apology, she pressed further. “Tell me, Mathy-“

He nearly spat his drink. “Mathy?”

“Yes, Mathy- what do you do when you are anxious?”

The roegadyn gave it some thought. “I.. I like to recite..” Mathias considered it some more, debating his next move. Despite her continued concentration upon her doodle, a brow quirked curiously at that. “Er- when I am.. anxious, I prefer the company of nature. Trees, fields of flowers. Clears the mind.” His head glanced around idly, upon the dry desert heat which awaited them with an almost avid glee.

He grimaced. “Well..”

She chuckled again.

Thatch continued to draw a rough-sketch of someone, a face of importance from what the roegadyn could glean. She was a pretty sort. Luscious hair with soft eyes. Her ears the same as Thatch’s own, with other similar features. “And yes,” she added finally, “the brew was good this morning.”

Mathias sighed faintly, with an ounce of relief. 

“Good.. good.” He sniffled, before taking another sip. Together, the pair enjoyed a quaint moment as the distant sounds of desert wildlife and persistent bickering made themselves heard. His eyes danced along the inner-workings of her page, despite himself. “May I..” He paused, refocusing. “Tell me.. who is that, in your journal? If you do not mind my asking. You’ve done a splendid job.”

“Oh.” She pursed her lips briefly, the quill in her midst loosening, offset by his ask. “..A-Amelie, she is my sister. Well.. one of them.”

“Oh, goodness. I- I never knew! Must be wonderful to have them.”

“It most certainly is not.”

“Oh.” Mathias made a face. “Well, I do suppose you’re right. I never had-“

Thatch hesitated before she spoke further, giving it thought. Her eyes glossed over the recreation of Amelie’s face. “She passed away, some years ago.”  
Mathias’ lips creased with a frown. “Forgive me, m’lady, I should not have pried. I’m terribly sorry for your-“

“Tis not your fault, you did not know.” She closed her journal shut. “Artemis knows already, so it is not like.. it is not some,” she motioned her hands extravagantly, “closely-guarded secret. Rafaela, my other kin, terrorizes me so. Even more now that Amelie is gone. Most of the letters you see me write? Well..”

“Ahh..”

She nodded. 

“She must think the world of you now, still.”  
Thatch scoffed. “Hardly. Rafaela makes her distaste for what I do known, in almost every letter.. and yet the foolish girl writes me anyway. 

“Family.”

“Family,” she repeated. “What of yours?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Never had much. Have even less now. My father, he..” Mathias hesitated. “It was just him and he.. well, the man tried, in the end. But it was not enough. I told myself I would be better.”

“Are you?”

He seemed quiet, giving the notion thought. “I would hope so.”

She patted him so, once more. “Good.” As she continued to doodle, a small smile crept over her face. “You would have liked Amelie. She was..” Briefly, the elezen’s eyes glossed over Artemis’ form as her and the hyur begun a few, small shreds of pugilist practice. “I miss her dearly.”

“What.. again, if you do not mind, what happened to her?”

Thatch stashed her quill away, closing the book shut and running the strap across to bind it. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Oh, goodness. I’ve made a..”

She shushed him. “..in due time.”

“Will you be okay?” He asked, nearing closer. 

“For you? Of course.”

The roegadyn huffed a small sigh at that. What followed was a small beat, a continued moment of quaintness. After some time, he remembered, fetching something from his own satchel. “I, erm-“ He cleared his throat, and promptly handed her a small flower. She met the gift with a soft smile: a small collection of pink cherry blossoms. Mathias wanted to speak further, but could not in that moment. Instead he simply handed it to her. 

“What spurred this?” She asked, curious.

His big, broad shoulders shrugged the slightest bit. “Tis a hobby I enjoy.” 

She playfully hummed at that. He waved a dismissive hand. “Figured it best that I give one now instead of later-“

“Quite the charmer you are. Did you get one for us all?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Even Garred?”

“No.”

She laughed.

—

_Practice went well today. Though a series of training dummies are hardly what I’d consider true practice, what mattered was our coordination in the field. Garred threw several surprises our way, but it was nothing we could not handle. ‘Tis true our days have grown a touch ... scarce in terms of excitement, but we make do. Keeping those rowdy lot alive can be as exhausting as it is exhilarating, so the next time some real action comes our way ... I shall dine upon the finest delicacy._

_..._

_Tomorrow is the day, Amelie.. Would you be proud, I wonder?_

—

Thatch hadn’t much time to jot down any thoughts the following morning, having already been cast into a hectic foray. Roaming bandits demanded their umtost attention, and that aside, Garred held a few more errands for them to run once that was done. Material gathering, bartering with vendors in distant towns. Much of it seemed foolhardy or otherwise unnecessary but the experience granted them a sense of variety amidst the action. Something the four desperately wanted, to admittedly varying degrees. 

The bandits were far from a foreign entity. No. Instead, their cries of retribution for slain brothers were laced with the dollop of truth that, per the action of the Flames, there would be less to share. 

More Thanalan for them. 

Mathias and his team saw to their empire-building scheme, with swift judgment.

Fire bolts casted themselves all around, brushing past Thatch’s head as she rolled to the side. There her companions were: Mathias seemed full of renewed vigor, hogging much of the aggression with ease as she kept him alive. Similarly, Lenus and Artemis put their pugilist skills to a much more effective use, cleaning up everything the roegadyn could not. Still, from what the elezen could glean Artemis found present difficulty in the fight. Amidst the onslaught of combat, the damage dealers continued their bickering even as they weathered the abuse of swordplay, bruises, and the scorching heat. 

The clink of swords and the blood-curdling screams rung through her ears; weighing heavily upon her heightened sense of sound. Thatch remained steadfast, keeping a clear head even as she grit her teeth. She focused her ability, honing in specifically upon the sounds of her comrades - and the occasional piece of chatter from the enemy. An insult, a suggestion rife with desperation. They were losing ground, the elezen knew that much.  
And yet, most of what dominated her thoughts was none other than her. Amelie plagued her memory; the recollection of her grace and strength, as well as her paranoia and subsequent fall. Talking of her - even briefly - with Mathias brought something uncomfortable to the forefront of her mind. The grief of recollection, the curse of longing. On today of all days, she found herself a woman of weakness.

In the process, an arrow skirted past her cheek, while another harshly jabbed itself into Lenus’s shoulder. He cried out with a grunt, unsettling the viera as she demolished the foe twice as viciously.  
Mathias lodged his shield into several remaining foes by the graces of his throw, drawing an even larger target upon his back as his eyes caught sight of the display. Thatch, herself compromised, and Lenus, injured. He swung his axe into the back of a bandit whose sights were set for the elezen. “Artemis, cover Thatch! I shall handle-“

“I’m all right!” The elezen cried, narrowly dodging two of the remaining bandits. “I just need to..” A third, bulkier one knocked her down with a harsh jab. In an instant, Artemis latched on to the man’s back, lodging her daggers deeply into the blades of his shoulders. 

Elsewhere, Mathias pulled Lenus to his feet, and was subsequently saved by the hyur as he deflected a lasting arrow. The two gave each other a nod, then proceeded to finish cleaning up what little banditry had remained.

When Artemis and Thatch were promptly finished.. there wasn’t much.

From afar, Garred watched them. Ever the master, elusive and opaque as he wore a look of grizzled malaise. He could not help but feel an ounce disappointment amid the relief granted by the team’s hard-fought success. With that disappointment was followed by dread. Dread, and anger. 

—

Lenus winced. “Ow.”

Thatch placed a healing hand upon his shoulder, the arrow which plagued him long gone. “Come now,” she said. “It’s over.”

“I know, I know, but-“ Lenus’s face twisted with pain as the leftover traces of its kiss withdrew thanks to Thatch’s healing abilities. He put on a brave face. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I-I’ll be.. just fine!”

Thatch gave him a look. “Nice try.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, offering a playfully innocent grin for her with his eyes briefly closed. “I, uh- I must work on my act, huh..?”

She hummed, working a small spell betwixt her fingers in order to shake off any remaining rust. “You and Mathy both do.”

“Hey don’t compare me- ow- don’t group us together! He’s a square! Ow-“

“And so the pot refers to the kettle as black.”

“What?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Pay it no mind. I’m sure Arte will love to tell you.”

He scoffed. “Sure.” Lenus rubbed his forehead, keeping his head down even as his attention desired nothing more than to watch the heated debate of Mathias and Garred from afar. The two bickered, the captain articulating his critique of their last performance harshly. “Where is Artemis, anyway?” the hyur asked. “Mayhap she would have-“

As he spoke, her eyes followed the pair of roegadyn. She wanted to press, to interject and potentially resolve the conflict but she knew - her interference would bring more trouble than it was worth. “Hey,” he repeated. “Did Mathias grant you a flower too?”

She wore a faint smile. “He did.”

“Yeah, see?” He would have puffed out his chest were it not for the injury, no matter the healing. 

“I’m at least not as much of a square as him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Len, you goose.” 

He chuckled. “D-Do not worry about me, I’ll be fine. The laughter dulls the pain.”

“Did I not?”

“You did! I..” He sighed. “Bad joke.”

“Aplenty.”

“Okay, now you sound like Artemis.”

She patted his leg idly. 

Before Lenus stood with a sigh, he regarded her. 

“No, I.. your work as a healer is.. I actually respect it a great deal. I know your job is hard, I just- I want to be more useful but I feel like- ah.. never mind.”

“Nay, say what you feel. Speak your mind.”

He hesitated. “Well, I.. neither Artemis nor myself, we are not.. syncing as well as we could, I don’t think. We’re better, I mean. We and Mathias, we- I don’t mean to-“

“We become what we intend,” said Thatch, as she idly pulled free her journal. It remained closed, in her clutches as she spoke. “You are very capable, as are we all, but none of us are.. well..“

“We have much to learn,” he said. “That’s what Mathias would say. Or.. Garred, I suppose.”

“It matters not who said it, but that it remains true regardless. I failed us today, ‘tis my burden to bear..”

He placed a hand upon her shoulder and said with a smile, “We bear it together.” Finally, the hyur stood. He recounted the wealth of skill she bore, despite her moments of failure. He left with a great respect for the art of healing, and walked away. Thatch watched him leave, his words a small comfort in the grand scheme that was her grief.  
She sighed.

—

_I try, Amelie.. I try. Some days, the responsibility is just too much and I simply.. I feel as though I would be crushed under the weight of what you- what we left behind. Rafaela cares not that I follow in your footsteps. Father is not here to be the rock we once needed for support. And you.. you are not here, to be what I cannot._

_And yet, I remain. Every day, I awake with renewed purpose. Every day, I make the most of what I’m able to do. Every day, I take comfort in the knowledge that I have people who care for me, and I them. Even if Rafaela does not.. they do.  
Ugh.. she does care, but_

_..._

_I do not know. About her, about home. What I do know, however; above all ... is that I miss you. Would you be proud of me? What would you think of my companions, I wonder..? Perhaps you would approve, perhaps not. I suppose I would not care much. ‘Tis my life, the one I lead ... but I feel as though you would like them._

_..but would you like me, as I am now..?_

_..._

_I hope.. wherever you may be, dear sister, that you have found the peace you desired for so long._

_I love you._

—

Once more, the sun had fallen and yielded itself to the coming dark. Every shadowy inch creeping across the sky, giving way to what lay beyond - the stars. With the shroud undone, the light of the moon showered them with what little visibility not already granted by the heat of the fire Artemis and Mathias had made together. 

Thatch scribbled something into her journal, alone in the camp until she was joined by the viera who humbly sat beside her. No snark, no playful tone. 

Together the two among the campfire, as the others remained elsewhere. Lenus was off, studying. Mathias had taken some time to himself, eager to cool down after a long day of endless bickering and critique.

Garred..? None of them were quite sure.

Yet it mattered not.

The elezen remained unnaturally quiet. No warmth, no brevity. Her eyes remained glued to the page, jotting down word after subsequent word. Her face wore a look of deep concentration. 

Artemis spoke nary a word, as she took in a lungful of the night air. As crisp and calming as it was, it did little to settle her mind. She knew better. She frowned slightly, looking over.

Thatch’s sense of concentration dulled, derailing as the weight of the day left nothing in its wake. She wanted to hold on, to remain strong, but as the motions of her quill slowed, the page was peppered with the wetness of a tear which fell upon it. She quickly closed the book, shutting her eyes. Thatch set the journal aside, her tears bubbling to the surface.

Artemis slowly pulled her into a hug, which the elezen greedily accepted, leaning into it. Their embrace tightened as she sobbed in her arms.  
The viera kept her hands tight upon her. Artemis smiled faintly into her shoulder, her own eyes glossy. “I love you,” she said, “and I’m proud of you.”


	3. Mathias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Great change awaits the ambitious roegadyn and the rest of his squad.

Mathias wore a faint smile, watching as Thatch used the back of her hand to wipe several beads of sweat from the length of her brow. Clad in a kind of workout gear, as were they all, she gave her limbs a stretch afterwards. The elezen neared close to sit alongside her roegadyn comrade, patting him idly upon the leg. Afar, Artemis savored an ample breath which filled her lungs, flexing her wrists and cracking the knuckles upon her fist as Garred ordered Lenus to approach next.

"Aye, time for the pugilists to test their mettle against one another," he lightly quipped, his mind still seemingly elsewhere. "Good work, by the by - Sartessa and Krow." The elezen flashed him a thumbs-up from where she sat — and the viera hummed in regards to his compliment. Garred stepped away, content to watch them as observantly as the other two now were.

Lenus puffed out his chest, expelling a motivated sigh. "Ready to improve?" he asked, and in turn she had simply given him a look. The hyur practically deflated underneath her intense, savory gaze. Like so, insecurity reared its ugly head anew. "W-what..? I just-“

Artemis drew out the antipcaton of what she might say next. "Foolish boy," she said, teasingly. "Thatch could hardly handle me. What makes you think _you_ can?"

By the sidelines, the elezen motioned her hand in a so-so manner. The viera saw, and couldn’t help but smile wickedly.

Mathias spoke in her stead. "Don't kill him too hard, Arte," he said with his own, wry smile, as he handed Thatch a fresh rag. "He's still useful to me!” Artemis could only laugh in response, as Lenus's cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

_“Still useful to me,”_ Lenus loudly mocked. “Oh now, _now_ the hulking slab of meat cares!” Taking another breath, the hyur tempered his flustered approach with further motivation. Garred set the two up, and on his word they would have at. “Big, lumpy bastard..” the hyur mumbled, under his breath.

With another playful sneer, Artemis lunged at him — and the pair were caught in a clash of training blades from there. The standoff quickly grew to a stand-still as the two struggled in an equal show of strength. Their hands shook, as Len gritted his teeth, a bead of sweat already beginning to run down the side of his face. As if on cue, a sinister grin spread across Artemis’s lips.

As the damage dealers worked their dispute out, Mathias and Thatch idly conversed, her thoughts caught between him and what she jotted down in her journal. “Methinks Garred might have another task for us soon,” she said. “I see it written all over his face, mayhap a big one? He seems strange either way.”

He handed her a canteen to drink from. She briefly did so, as he replied. “Aye, it would seem so..” He hummed. “Would explain why my nerves are caught in a bundle, but-“ 

“But you will be ready?” she said, wiping at her lips before handing the mug back. 

He nodded, solemnly. “I will.” He took a sip then, after her - and then closed the cap to the mug and set it down. “We will.”

“There is the Mathy I know and love.” Her comment brought a laugh out of him. 

“I am rather pleased we’ve such catchy nicknames now,” he admitted. “Though.. you do not seem to have one, my lady?”

She scribbled. “I do,” the elezen replied. “Thatch.”

Her response gave him some pause. “We have.. been using it this entire time?”

She nodded. 

“I.. feel bad, truth to be told.”

“Why, dear?”

“We’ve never used your name — your actual name. I do apologize for that, I-“

“Fret not, I prefer the one I use now. Arte is similar. It’s what she chose when she came to these lands.”

Mathias rubbed the back of his neck. “Fair, I suppose.. though still I would be remiss if I didn’t try.”

“Oh no-“

He playfully gave his chin a few taps. “I’ll think on it.”

“Make it a good one.”

The roegadyn hummed, his calloused fingers running over the length of his chin. He felt another, tinier scar upon it. Weeks of training and adventuring making itself known all the more. It was inescapable now. His eyes followed the battle of his companions from afar, the dexterity on display between the two — the anger and taunting which followed. Garred barked a series of suggestions their way, off and on, with only a few of them actually landing in a productive sort of way. The rest were promptly ignored. 

Mathias rubbed his face with a muffled groan. 

“Mathy,” she said. “Look at me?”

The roegadyn squinted, turning to look at her - granting her ask. “I’m sorry, m’lady?” 

“No, ye- stay like that. Just like that.” She mirrored his squint, studying the features upon his face before returning to the confines of her journal, placing the quill upon it. “Very good.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

He paid the request little mind, simply reciprocating the expression as he awaited his turn to train. He took a small breath, clearing his thoughts of any lingering worry. A fool’s errand, in the end, but he forced himself to try. 

Artemis’s display of skill faltered, by the slightest bit. Something Lenus took full advantage of. He felt a pang of regret as he did so, but continued anyway. He dodged a side-swipe, catching her foot to make the viera stumble out of her combo. She growled, trailing around him like he were prey. Trapped, ensnared. “Do not come at me like that,” he offered. “When you throw the next swipe, you-“

“Shut up.”

Irritation spread across his face. “I’m just trying to help you, you scowling witch!”

Artemis laughed, lunging once more to catch him off-guard. His chin and shoulder were tapped with two hits, pecking at his sense of self-control. She got another hit in, before he countered with two of his own. Then, he shoved her away. “You will not get any better at this if you don’t try!”

She spun one of the blades across her open palm, catching the grip upon the last twirl. “If you occupy yourself with unnecessary critique and hardly anything else, neither will you.” With another growl, the squad mates were locked in another clash. 

“All right, kids!” Garred yelled. “Mayhap y’two should take a few minutes to yourselves and-“

She was stronger than him. He had learned that, envied that. Another person to outmatch him. But something clicked in his mind, then. Lenus moved a foot back, using Artemis’s strength against her as he moved further. He slid back, allowing her force to barrel forward.

He reared back, and promptly swept his leg across hers. Artemis doubled-back, falling flat on the ground from his maneuver. The rest of the squad cooed, almost impressed were it not for the inevitable retaliation that was to come. Garred chortled, clapping his hands together. “Good one, Lenus!”

The hyur sighed, his show of aggression already weighing heavily on his mind. Mathias saw it, the remorse written all over his face. The roegadyn furrowed his brows slightly. 

“They are a handful, aren’t they,” said Thatch, distantly, her sense of concentration focused upon the page.

Mathias replied with a groveled hum.

The sounds of viera growls and hyur screams followed, along with a surprisingly loud thud. Mathias and Thatch both looked up, to bear witness to Lenus, his head firmly planted into the dirt, his body raised with his legs almost comically twisted and dangling. Artemis tossed her training blade away, a scowl upon her lips. She stomped off - as her opponent lay groaning and defeated. 

Garred watched as she had stomped off. He moseyed over, helping Lenus to his feet. “Y’alright, son?” There was no response, but Garred patted some dirt lightly from his shoulder anyway. 

Mathias prepared himself, fully expecting to be selected next.

The Captain drew it out, allowing a brief window between the last match and the one to come. The second-in-command could see it, the look of a subtle sort of pondering upon the fellow roegadyn’s face. “Mathias... yer up now,” Garred confirmed, as expected.

He stood, but the leaders next few words had bestowed a sense of unease.

“You’ll spar with me.”

Mathias hesitated. “Beg your pardon, sir?”

As Lenus walked off, moseying towards Mathias for the pair to trade places, the roegadyn gave a solemn nod. He met the Captain upon the field, and was tossed a heftier broadsword. Even in its dulled, made-for-training state, the weight felt as real as ever. He eyed Garred with a wearier look than normal. “Garred,” he said, more confidence in his voice as the two prepared to brawl. “I must say, I.. wasn’t expecting this.”

“Come now,” Garred replied. “Ya’ve been- what have y’said... a choir boy, a wannabe pirate, and now yer just content to remain an obedient bootlicker? Content to play it safe, remain rigid and inflexible..? Doesn’t sound like you! Lesson one: Expect the unexpected.” The Captain leaned upon the sword, as his remained plunged into the ground. “Ya.. can do that, can’t you..?”

Mathias held his tongue, fully aware that his blood was beginning to boil. The second-in-command held his sword out, pointing it towards his commanding officer. Then, he settled himself into more of a defensive stance. From afar, Thatch whistled, to egg Adler on further in support. Garred smirked at that. 

“C’mon, Adler,” he said. “You talk a big game. Prove it!” 

Instead of lunging forward, the Captain stood his ground. Waiting, watching. And Mathias had done the same, unsure as to what might happen next. The fellow roegadyn’s were caught in an intense stare; one waiting for the other to move. If Mathias stepped forward first, if he slipped up, it would end in failure. Garred was sure, was hungry for it. Humiliation was the goal, of course it was. Garred’s lessons such as these were twisted and cruel, if only so fortunately brief.

Garred spoke nary a word. The only eye he had left narrowing.

The audience which built around them had picked up the slack in terms of noise. Thatch whistled, giving her hands a clap. And, once the hyur cooled off, Lenus mocked a shout. “Don’t mess up! I’m already judging!”

Even Artemis. The viera may have stood alone, sat by herself as she chewed on another piece of bread, yet she stayed to watch, almost snickering at the situation.

With a stalemate in need of avoiding, Mathias acted first. Despite his fear, he moved. And Garred could only chuckle. The heft of their broadswords were caught in the first of many clashes, then. Strength matching strength, one unable to overcome the other. Garred narrowed his eye again. “Yer worried.”

“Not worried,” Mathias corrected. “Curious.”

“Bullshit!” Garred yelled, the action an attempt to throw Mathias off. The Captain lunged, slicing upward so their swords would break off. He swiped forward; once, twice, thrice, with Mathias deflecting each offering of wooden might. He held his ground, despite having been relegated to his defensive posture once more. “I recognize that stance,” Garred commented, noting the posture Mathias held himself in as he prepared for another blow. “Did yer research? Battle is the easy part, son. This does not impress me.”

“I don’t study to impress you.”

“Surely, yer wanting to impress someone?” Garred tapped his chin. “But whom, I wonder.. is it just yerself?”

Mathias snarled, losing himself to the desired offensive. He thrust his sword forward, almost jabbing into Garred had the roe not deflected upon the last second, by a hair. The pair traded blows, one after the other. The Captain could hardly remove the grin from his chapped, and scarred, lips. And it only made Mathias all the angrier. 

They were caught in another clash then, drawing the blades close. Mathias grit his teeth, still locked in a stare with the other. Garred hummed aloud, his body-language struggling the faintest bit. “What’s the matter, boy? Mad, are ya?”

“I am no boy.”

“Yer certainly no man.” Garred weakened, stepping his foot back in a move similar to what Lenus had done previously. Mathias’ outpouring of strength would have sent him forward, but he relented, anticipating the maneuver. In Garred’s haste, Mathias tapped him with several jabs of his training-sword until he went a clothesline to finish things off. 

That was when Garred ducked, almost kicking his second-in-command’s leg out. Again, Mathias had anticipated another subversion yet struggled to recoil, recovering only seconds before Garred hit him with his own finisher. “Need a cooler head than that, son!” Those were the Captain’s only words to share. Mathias yelled, forcing the roe back before hitting him with another flurry of blows. Garred couldn’t keep up, in the end. His blade was soon knocked from his hand, and in turn the Captain was knocked to the ground. 

Beads of sweat fell from Mathias’ brow. Outwardly, the rest of the party all shared a joyous cheer. A moment of unity, one sorely needed. Though the others remained mostly unaware of the words the two shared between them. It felt like ages before time seemed to move again, with Adler feeling weariness fill his heart once more. With a heavy sigh, he stuck the end of his blade against the dirt - and offered to help the older, grizzled man to his feet. 

Reluctantly, Garred accepted and was pulled to his feet. In doing so, he left his second-in-command with a final comment. “Ya lose your head too well, same as the others. Real easy-like. Too easy.” He gave him an almost condescending pat upon the back. “Yer not fit to fill my shoes, son. Don’t think differently.” 

With that, Garred left the winner to his own devices. In the center of a ring fit for battle, for training. Alone.

Until... “Artemis,” Garred called as he sat down with a groan, setting his sword aside. “Yer up again. Give tall, pale, and lumpy a whoopin’ for me, will ya?” He wiped his face with a rag of his own.

In seconds, Thatch and Lenus had already begun cheering for the approaching viera. Mathias rolled his eyes.

—

Another week passed, and with that passage had come a sense of.. uncertainty. Garred seemed offset, his thoughts an unreliable blur, troubled by something. An impending force they could not see. And, instead of making it known, he ordered that the most menial of tasks be done. Something to pass the time. Hunts, resource gathering, a quest to fetch something from one small town and ferry it to the next. Mathias remembered every detail given, not that there were many to begin with, yet he remembered. The operations were often quick and no less dull, with occasional need for positioning or path-taking. Though the squad remained focused even when they would groan or poke fun. 

Mathias knew it. He was being patronized, made little use of. The thought angered him, but to press the irritation further would only cheapen Garred’s view of the second-in-command. To openly complain would make him seem lesser, possibly to them all. He would hold his tongue, letting it slip only when he and the squad were left to their own devices. Of which there were many.

And so they quarreled - leftover bandits, rabid beasts. Whatever the scorching Thanalan heat had provided, they weathered. Each of them had accomplished much in the past few months - the experience they shared an often confusing, frustrating one, peppered with moments of joy and catharsis. Mathias was proud of them, proud of himself - even if that particular point felt.. hollow. He thought of them fondly, his brothers and sisters in arms. 

Even amidst the most menial task, their presence had made it worthwhile.

Though, when a considerably heftier mission worked its way to the Flames, it was as clear as a cactuar was disturbing that the order came from even higher-up. Beyond Garred’s jurisdiction. To land in their laps was.. well, it had proved a necessary breath of fresh air. They were excited.

An operation in the capital, the city of Ul’Dah. Word of the squad had made little headway for the most part but some had taken notice, an impressed few. There were troubling reports. Possible Garlean spies hiding amongst the rabble and filth that occasionally walked the streets, and then some. 

It was a task the squad could properly whet their collective teeth on. Even still, Garred remained concerned, almost bitter. The other four paid it little mind. Mathias in particular. Garred’s reaction hardly mattered, his tact having held the squad back, they felt. They were more than ready. Mathias knew it well.

—

The roegadyn’s nerves were twisted, a ticklish sort of sensation battering his stomach as his eyes looked over the docket again. He lay half-naked, the sweeping, muscled vista of his broad chest illuminated by the grace of candlelight as he read the report. He hummed, another grovel of a noise.

“Gods, Mathy, can’t you read something better?” Lenus asked, similarly dressed. He rubbed a hand across his breast, down to wipe at his arm. Amid their tent, the men were prepared for bed but not quite the slumber that would follow. The hyur lay upon his bedroll, his hands now behind his head. “Preferably something with.. fancier text, mayhap erotic literature?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh,” Lenus said. “You find.. mission reports erotic, then?”

Mathias could have stabbed his tent-mate, his eyes were staring daggers that sharp. “Seven hells, Len. I’m trying to focus.”

The hyur granted an air of peace among the tent, aside from the sounds of wildlife outside - as well as the distant, occasional giggle from the women’s tent. “Oh I am focusing too,” he finally said. “Upon the tent. The flap-thing, the-“

Mathias sighed. 

“I’m bored, Mathy, f-forgive me..” Lenus rubbed his face with a single hand. “A big day tomorrow, and yet all I can think of is-“

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I swear-“

“No!” The hyur left a pregnant pause. “...okay, yes,” he quietly added. “It isn’t the only thing, but I..”

Another sigh fell from Mathias’ lips, yet he indulged. “Aye, I know. I know.. at this rate I hardly fault you.”

He rolled to his side, his head held by a balled fist. “Is your heart in need as well, my chummy roe?”

“Please, never say that again.” 

“Hmmm.” Lenus rubbed at the whiskers upon his chin. “Mayhap what I say is true? The weary stoic has a heart which aches for-“

“My heart is in need of many things,” Mathias admitted. “Right now.. all I need is silence.”

“You wound me.”

The roegadyn’s eyes glossed over the report, noting a particular point that the squad failed to clarify. “Godsdammit..” He gave a mild sigh, needing to check as soon as possible. The combined effect of his hazy sort of thinking from exhaustion mixed with the annoyance of Len had motivated him well. He dug himself out of the men’s tent to step into the chill of the night air, the faded smoke of a doused campfire having long since passed. The moon was that of a fingernail, luminous and bright as it showered him with its lunar kiss, illuminating every step he took. He shivered slightly, only his breeches to provide a shred of warmth as he moseyed over to the closed-entrance of the woman’s tent, the sounds of conversation beginning to be heard in inside.

“Forgive me, my ladies,” he quietly said, catching their attention. “There was something on the report we need to check, can we-“

His words trailed, and silence followed. He swallowed hard, unsure of what might happen next. He felt a fool regardless. 

“Of course,” Thatch suddenly confirmed. “Stick your head in, Mathy, it’s cold out.”

Oblivious, Mathias did as she offered, peaking in with the scroll in his midst, his eyes glued to its contents. “Aye, thank you- now, for tomorrow we needed to get..” He looked up. “Oh.”

Thatch and Artemis were similarly clad as the men were; undergarments and sports-bras. Artemis’ eyes were caught in a playful but no less deadly squint, as the elezen seemed unfazed as she eyed him earnestly. “Well?” she said. “Go on.”

He immediately whipped his head from the flaps entrance in an instant, closing it back tight. The blush upon his face was harsh and red-hot. “I-I’m sorry, my ladies, I am a fool, I-“ He stumbled over his apology, feeling twice the fool he already was. “I- erm, I shan’t-“ He stumbled, falling to the ground with a ragged sigh. He nodded to himself. 

As he dusted himself off and walked away, he heard the faintest trace of the women beginning to loudly laugh, in stitches at the result of his reaction. It only made him flush all the more. He cursed under his breath, laying several insults towards himself and the seemingly unending well of stupidity from which he plentifully drew from.

Lenus peered as the second-in-command returned, giving his chin a rub. 

Mathias said nothing, opting to recoil the report and tuck it away for the morning as he laid down upon his just slightly too small of a bedroll.

Lenus’ eyes widened. “What did you see.”

Mathias rolled over, to his side.

“Mathy,” the hyur pressed. “Mathias.” He readjusted. “Mathias, I need to know. Please. _Mathias.”_

“Silence,” the roegadyn finally replied, sternly. “Lest you want to sleep with the cactuars tonight.”

The hyur dispelled a mild groan, laying down to prepare for bed. “You are _no_ fun.” 

—

Sunlight kissed the table which the sweeping, wilted map lay itself upon. “All right,” said Garred as they gathered around. “It has been some time since ya‘ve been to Ul’dah, so ‘tis a mite too simple a task in gettin yerself lost.”

“You think we’re going to get lost?” Artemis asked, her arms crossing themselves. “Mayhap you hold that little faith in us, sir?”

Garred humored her. “Seven hells, I’ve often gotten lost meself,” he admitted, to the surprise of the squad. “More times than I’d like to admit...”

“Figures, Garred,” said Mathias as the other three failed to hide their snickering. His tone impatient. “Now what’s the play?”

“We aren’t sure how many spies there might be,” Garred began to say. “Nor do we know if they are even still inside the city walls, but caution should be advised nonetheless.” He tapped his finger against the wealth of the market, then moved to encircle where the chamber of rule lay. “No such reports that spies have breached the inner circle. We are actin’ fast, see..”

“Not that fast,” Lenus had quipped. “If there are already spies afoot..” The rest of the squad turned their heads to give him a look. “What?”

“And this is why we shall be dressed in civilian clothes?” Thatch asked. “If we’re to act with the utmost discretion, what might follow should we encounter them?”

“Kill them,” Artemis answered. 

“Oh, my-“ The elezen hummed. “I mean, I suppose-“

“Nay,” Garred corrected. “No killing.. not yet. We’ve received word that a larger Garlean camp lay elsewhere, hidden away. We haven’t the resources to properly scout, but-“

“So, theoretically, these spies might know of the exact location?” Mathias interrupted. “And should we actively finger one,” faint snickers were heard, he paid it no mind, “we could follow them back?”

“Nay, son.” Garred waved a dismissive hand. “Should we find one, we nab ‘em.”

“And then kill them,” Artemis added.

“No!” cried the rest of the squad, in unison. Until Mathias added, “Well, after we’ve gathered what we needed, mayhap?” Artemis smirked at that.

“We’ll need to split up,” Garred said, furthering the conversation along. Likewise, his tone seemed almost disingenuous, a pang of longing spreading through him as he spoke.

“Should we really split the party?” asked Artemis. 

He grumbled. “We need not make this public, lest we suffer outcry. The Flames have a reputation to uphold — and we’ve much to prove.” He cleared his throat. “You have much to prove.” His eyes glossed over them all. “Anyone feelin’ mouthy? Nay?”

“Arte and I can look over the market?” Lenus offered.

Garred looked him square in the eye, knowingly. “No.”

Lenus held his hands out in an incredulous manner. 

Garred went to form a series of placements, but was promptly interrupted by his second-in-command. Mathias proved himself an eager man, despite his bow careful tone of voice. “Lenus and Thatch can overlook onyx lane and the surrounding markets, notably... er- Sapphire,” he began. “Artemis and I can cover the ruby road exchange - the bar, which would be close by, as well as in and around the entrances to the central chambers. Split the place in two. Half and half..?”

“Oh?” said the viera, surprised but in a sardonic sort of way. “Oh? Are we? Bold words for someone who lost the fight.”

“I did not lose.”

“You did.”

“Well, ‘twas a tie technically,” Thatch added.

“Nah,” replied Lenus. “Arte definitely won.. after I whooped her.”

Mathias sighed aloud, as Garred rolled his eye.

“You’re our best tracker,” the second-in-command added. “I’ve always come to you for such matters. And Thatch’s point of observation is second to none. Lenus and his approach compliments her own. And.. I try my best but I often stick out like a sore thumb. So.. Arte, you can balance that out.” Mathias flexed the muscles in his fingers, popping them before he scratched at the scruff beginning to form upon the law of his jaw. “What does everyone else think?”

“Askin’ because ya doubt yerself, boy?” Garred asked. 

“I ask because I value the input of the team.”

“And I value a job well done!” Lenus interjected, feeling the awkwardness beginning to form. Thatch patted him idly upon the shoulder, as they all nodded and agreed to varying degrees.

“How would we even spot one of the spies?” the elezen asked. “It is not like they loudly proclaim their intentions.. they’re spies. Meaning they would likely be dressed the same as us.”

“Hard to say,” Garred replied. “It could be anyone. Precisely why this will involve not only discretion, but a considerable level of perception and tact. Word has it; they’re even working with someone as well. We do not know if they plan to set an attack for that day, or for later.. again, we do not know.” He closed the map. “Battle is easy.”

“And where will you be, Garred?” Thatch asked.

Artemis chipped in. “Standing off to the sidelines to gawk?”

He grumbled. “I will be where I’m needed.”

Mathias took umbrage with the comment, but hadn’t the focus to criticize the captain then and there. More important matters demanded his present-tense. “We shall be ready, Garred,” he said, speaking for them all. 

The Captain turned, his eye targeting Mathias instantly in the sharpest stare. “Make it so.”

—

_**UL’DAH, HOURS LATER** _

—

While he may have preferred the serenity of the outside, Mathias considered himself the only one to actually enjoy the city of Ul’dah. The rest of the squad, in stark contrast, did not. He was never much for crowds themselves, truth to be told, but he enjoyed the activity - the light and the life, even under the cover of night. Though the day ushered in a heap of crowds, a hefty sort that gave him pause. He and Artemis had surveyed the surrounding area; the entrances outside, the church upon the far side, and now the streets, remaining as inconspicuous as possible, they were beset by numerous opportunities to converse. Many of which were denied, unless it involved the viera making fun of his appearance. 

Still, he pressed on, finally mustering the courage. “Really, my lady, I must apologize for the other night. I was tired, and not thinking properly. And I-“

“Stop apologizing, you giant ass.”

“It would be unfit for me not to.”

Artemis gave him a look, as they were brushed by a band of roaming, dancing lalafels. “How in the seven hells were you ever a pirate?”

“Well, it’s really quite simple, actually-“

She poked at his chest. “Rhetorical.”

He expelled another gravely hum, motioning for the two to press on. The crowds were thick and rife with, per the words of Artemis, ‘rather strange looking folk’. It proved an unfortunately busy day in the city - ensuring their goal would be made all the more difficult. “Come,” she said. “I need a drink.”

“Really? Now - of all times?”

“ _Especially_ now.” 

“We’ve only been at this for a few hours-“

She waved a dismissive hand, as they walked by a hrothgar who picked at his lute in a beautiful candor; several adoring fans gathered around. “Think of it as.. you supervising me, as we supervise the possible spies inside. How’s that?” She tossed a piece of Gil into the hrothgar’s bucket. Mathias did the same, then followed her. It would do him a terrible amount of good to keep watch, notably as the Quicksand was sure to attract a variety of characters after all. Including, per chance, the men they were after. Time would only tell. She knew what she was doing, even if it did not always seem so. He gave her that much.

—

The merchant smiled at her, accepting the trade. Thatch left him with a nod, before traversing more of the market. Her and Lenus had covered swathes of land - debating with each other the merits of what constituted a suspicious-looking person, to the nature of casting magical spells themselves. The art of it. The hyur was full of questions; his nerves ensuring that he spoke almost nonstop. She minded little, enjoying the noise; a familiar point to anchor on to when the world seemed impossibly daunting. 

While momentarily split apart however, the two agreed to acquire some supplies the squad were in desperate need of - before they were cast back into the wilderness for weeks on end. Again. 

Then there came a voice. “Looking for something in particular, my dear?” A fellow hyur had approached - a highlander, by her estimation. The colors upon his clothing were vibrant, tinged with an aura of, say, a swashbuckler of sorts. Something like it, at the least. He looked rugged, a grin she happened to enjoy more than she might have expected.

“Oh, nothing in particular, no..” she replied. 

“Ahh, I understand that. I’m looking for something, for my mother. She’s sick, you see-“

“My condolences,” Thatch replied, giving her sharp chin a rub. “Here’s to her health improving.”

He stood alongside her, hands behind his back. “You’re too kind.”

When he looked at her, his crimson-colored gaze eventually met the elezen’s own, as she apprehensively glanced. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, “but.. you have such beautiful eyes.” 

Before she could give a proper response, he had left. Swiftly and without a care, disappearing into the crowd. The comment warmed her, but she paid it little mind; too preoccupied with the day’s events. Another stranger she shared words with that day, her and Lenus both. By her estimation, the crowds of Ul’dah were filled with strange, otherwise suspicious characters. Malicious intent or no - she and her hyur companion had come across many that day.

“I swear, if another au ra stabs with me with dagger-like eyes, I might actually begin to bleed.” Lenus sighed, having passed some Gil to the necessary merchant in order to acquire some of the supplies they needed. He returned to her, slinging the pouch upon his belt.

“It must be your charm,” Thatch replied, looking over the possible listings upon the market’s board. An offer of monster-hunting contracts, a fire sale to come just next week, dancing lessons. The works. She gave her head a mite shake.

“I have that effect on people,” he replied. “Seen anything.. ‘suspicious’ yet?”

“Not.. quite suspicious as the fools we ran into earlier. Drunks, at this time of day?” She scoffed. “‘Tis a difficult thing, keeping watch like this. Makes me antsy.”

“I am always antsy.”

“You are always.. a lot of things, my dear Len.” That brought a chuckle out of him. 

The two browsed the listings upon the board further, until they stepped aside so other adventurers could have a go. Eager and ready to make - or spend - some Gil. The pair stood off to the side, their backs against the wall as they kept watch. They had scoured the city for what felt like hours.. given the positioning of the sun, they had.

“When we become big damn heroes, what’s next for the beautiful Ms. Sartessa?” Lenus asked. “Work your way up the ranks to give General Aldynn a kiss on the cheek?”

Thatch blushed, yet she entertained the thought with a quiet laugh. “I am.. sure Mathy would be quite jealous of that. He adores the man.”

“He would adore his own ass if he could see it much of the time.” Lenus waved his hand, keeping his eyes upon the crowd. “At least he isn’t Garred, but-“

Thatch hummed, quietly, as she leaned against the wall with him. In part to convey the allure of random civilian conversation, but also, frankly, simply because it was hard for the hyur to stop talking once he had begun. “I’m not sure what I would do,” he continued. “My work as a pugilist is..” A sigh escaped him. “It is good, to a point, but I feel-“

“Held back?”

“Yes.”

Thatch rubbed a thumb across the scar along her forearm. “Remember what we discussed before?”

“Yes, yes.. I know, I just-“

“Do not let Arte dominate your thoughts too poorly, either, or else you will not be of use to anyone.” 

He made a face, a feeling of cringe spreading through him. “Is it.. that obvious?”

“As obvious as the looks Mathy gives me.”

“Okay, now that is obvious.”

She laughed at that. And then, finally, gave him an answer she felt was good enough. “I.. I do not know. I may wish to return to Gridania one day, but.. I suppose there is not much left for me there..”

“No family? No work?”

“Neither.”

Lenus hummed. “If there’s one thing I am beginning to learn.. it is that we make our home, wherever we go. Our home is us, the people we care for.”

“Our purpose?”

He shrugged. 

“You sound like Mathias.”

“No, no, no, no- I came up with that all on my own!”

Thatch smiled, giving the notion some thought in spite of their mission. “It will be all right, Len.”

Amidst the crowd, something caught Thatch’s hearing. Her eyes were drawn to the source - a possible lead. She nudged her companion, and he followed suit, his eyes meeting some bystanders who seemed.. off. “Yes,” Lenus said finally. “I suppose it will...”

—

“Seven hells,” Mathias spat, his tone a hushed one as they were seated amongst the patrons of Quicksand’s embrace. “I should’ve known.”

“Mhm,” Artemis replied, savoring the last few drops of her drink. They agreed to a drink, just.. not an alcoholic one. Not yet. “Between jail, and you lot, I figured it an easy choice to make.” She set it down. 

“Would you say you made the right choice?”

The viera gave it some thought. “I got Thatch out of it, so.. yes.” She watched as he, too, finished the last of his drink. “W-Wait a minute, why even ask? You of all people.”

Mathias gave it less thought. “Because our regrets normally pester us when we least expect them to. After everything that has happened, I wanted to be sure.”

“It is purposeful, sure,” she admitted. “But I’m not so eager as you.” She waved the bartender for a refill. “Bootlicker.”

He sighed. 

“You need to relax.”

“Easier said than done,” he shot back, as their glasses were refilled. His eyes glanced over to the crowd, gathering a decent look at what they might be working with. Nothing yet. “But I am- I am sorry. I’ve not been what I ought to be.”

“Why do you do this.”

“I’m worried,” he said. “For us. For what is to come. And now I look at Thatch often and feel.. so twisted up. And with what little recognition we’ve gotten of late, it is hard to feel ... motivated.”

“What’s really the matter?” She took a swig. “Not that those things aren’t bothering you, I do get that- but what else?”

Mathias swished the contents of his brew around, lightly. “I received a letter not too long ago. From my old captain, my time amongst the sea.”

She grew quiet, motioning for him to continue. 

“She.. lamented my absence, of course, yet wished me all the best.” His eyes moved, looking off to something, to somewhere - a place far from where they were. “I miss her, dearly, and I miss the men- but I..” Another sigh escaped him. “I do not know. I felt I needed to be more.”

“And now Garred’s in your head, riling you up.”

“The bastard.”

The roegadyn and viera clinked their mugs together in light of that; a mutual distaste. “So, beat him up,” she offered.

He chuckled. “Foolishness. I’m a better man than that.“

“Men are often stupid, I’ve come to find.”

His head cocked slightly, a regrettably amused and agreeable look washing over him. Briefly. “Unfortunately, very true.” He took a sip. “But I temper myself. Patience yields focus. Remember that.”

She took the phrase, ingested it. Something she ought to hold on to. She might have, but still took a sip of her own. “And anger fuels resolve,” she replied.

“I shall drink to that.”

Artemis perked up, stopping him. “Someone’s coming.”

Then, there came a voice. “What are we drinking to?” Soon, that voice found a body in the form of another hyur. A man in rather colorful clothing, flipping a dagger to and fro with his hand. “Mind a third?”

She hardly wanted to regard him. “I do,” Artemis said.

He grinned. “Ahh, but you two look so lonely. Forgive me.. where are my manners?” He outstretched his arms as he gave a slight bow. “Eddard Stromwell.. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Mathias and Artemis gave each other a look. Then, she glanced at the rogue with judgmental eyes. “More like Strokewell, considering how you stroke your-“

The roegadyn pressed a hand to her shoulder, stopping the viera. “We are not interested. Just a friend and I catching up over a few drinks, ‘tis all.”

“Ahh, that is but a flimsy lie, isn’t it?” He thrust himself between the two, taking the small seat between them. “I know you’re looking for someone. You dress inconspicuously, yet dawdle at specific times, have a certain look upon your faces, move with precision. My men and I have been looking for you two, in particular..”

Artemis was prepared to throw down, and Mathias found himself arriving to that same point faster than expected - but he maintained a cool head, even as his tone grew all the sharper. “You don’t want this.”

“Oh, but I do.” He clicked his tongue. “Took us a while to find you lot, I will not lie, but.. the payment more than justifies the effort-“

Artemis perked up again, the sounds of several footsteps making their way to them. She locked eyes with her roegadyn. And the resolute look he gave back had told her everything she needed to know.

—

Thatch and Lenus were in hot pursuit, tailing several agents as they moved through the other side of the market - a purpose to their steps. Like them, the men were dressed casually - yet they carried a well-worn demeanor, a look of malice upon their lips as they seemed to idly stroll the Ul’dah streets. A roaming band of would-be swashbucklers not being the sort of foe either had expected to confront that day.

“This is too easy,” Lenus remarked, in a hushed tone. 

“There are two more behind us,” Thatch added, to his surprise. “Do not look. Methinks us having been split up worked well for them..”

“Yep, too easy.” He sighed. “What do we do?”

“We need at least one alive, do we not..? The rest-“

“-are fair game,” the hyur said, finishing her sentence nicely. “We should try to draw them away from the crowds, but-“

Thatch froze, her eyes widening as the sound of a blast was heard. “Len!” She shoved him out of the way, as such the blast of magic barely missed his presence as it scattered by. The crooks behind them had pressed the advantage, caring not for the act of subtlety no longer. One lunged, while the other continued to cast her spells. Thatch countered with some of her own, as she doused Lenus with a regenerative shield. 

He moved, barreling out of the way to catch the advance of the warrior as the two traded blows. All the while, the two the Flames had been following were now doubling-back. The crowd around them began to scatter, bumping into the attackers and defenders both.

“Godsdammit!” shouted one. “It wasn’t supposed to happen here, you moogle shits!” 

Lenus caught the noise, the sound of the irritated spy a notable one as the hyur stored that for later. Still, the present moment drew his attention as he was overwhelmed by the strength of his foe - the warrior grinned, giving her lips a lick as she shoved him back. He ducked, an oncoming offensive blast from Thatch knocking her back - and still the warrior was protected all the same, by the graces of their healer. Lenus and Thatch repositioned as the former went to dispatch the enemy healer. By the advent of a few City guardsman, they had stormed in to offset the advancing foes coming from behind, as well as the warrior who began to trade blows with them too.

It proved a mess, one worse than either Flame could have expected. The sloppy display on the part of the spies was.. questionable, at best, and terrible at worst. But it could always worsen.

Quickly, Lenus dispatched the healer with ease, then buckled as he slid back to assist the others. The warrior had already cut down a guard, catching a civilian in the process. Thatch healed, performing as she could in the heat of the moment as her mana drained. 

Lenus moved as quickly as he could, not just to prevent further loss of life but to incapacitate the one foe from before, lest he be struck down unknowingly by one of the city guard. Answers lost to the throes of combat.

—

The pair fled from the Quicksand, slipping out the back to draw attention away from the busying crowd. When they were found to be cornered in an alley distant from civilian activity, no other choice remained but to fight. 

Initially the roegadyn and viera were back to back, blocking whatever had come their way. But soon enough the pair was separated, as two burly, hulking goons on Eddard’s gil had thrown Mathias against the wall. 

Similarly, Artemis had put up a fight, cut off from her tank as managed to slip from Stromwell’s grasp, striking him with a quickened blade. He hissed, two more of his men at the ready. She briefly looked, upon Mathias’ dire state but her attention was pulled back to where Stromwell felt it belonged. He lunged at her, his boys following it up with a flurry of attacks all their own. She narrowly dodged and ducked through most, weathering several cuts and scrapes along the way.

Mathias had both axes drawn, curtailing the others’ advance with several swipes, keeping them all from Artemis and her own predicament. Maintaining a divide in Stromwell’s forces was key, a divide the roegadyn was eager to widen. The smaller hyur rushed at him in a moment of weakness, and was promptly cut down - an axe slicing through his jaw until the metal was stuck upon the chunk of flesh and bone inside. With haste Mathias quickly tossed his shield at the advancing au ra, crashing into his neck as the roegadyn pulled his axe free from the confines of the fallen mercenary. The au ra had cast the shield aside; choking and coughing as he did so, but the shield was battered and dented - another piece gone from his assortment of tools. Taking an apprehensive step back, Mathias quickly weighed his options before calling out to the viera. He rushed back, just before she could have been cut down, and asked her to duck. He effortlessly swung one of his axes, its weight flinging from his grasp to lodge itself into the back of one of her foes. The act caught even Stromwell off-guard, as she took advantage.

He laughed, still, egged-on by the show of such violence. He had almost congratulated the roegadyn as the rogue and the pugilist caught themselves in another clash of blades. He had ordered his remaining ally to dispatch the hefty roe, eager to cut down the muscle which Stromwell was weary of. “He’s gonna die first, love,” he hissed. “And you’re going to watch.”

The viera growled, striking him with a butt of the head. He was sent sliding back, yet countered with a hasty flick of his wrist. A long dagger shot out, with Artemis barely deflecting it. In the process her blade, too, was also lost. And then, promptly, he bludgeoned her with a hard fist, then slammed the viera to the floor. 

Wiping the blood from his mouth, he wore the faintest grin as he stepped over her to mosey towards the next victim. Making a show of it was his specialty.

Mathias sliced through the au ra’s hand, then bashed against him via a check of the shoulder. Yet the another roe had socked him harshly, right in the jaw. In his moment of vulnerability, the rest of Stromwell’s boys were eager to draw it out. No blades, not yet - but fists instead, slugging into him again and again, until he crashed into the concrete of the alley wall once more. 

Stromwell cooled their approach, keeping them from continuing as he got a good look at their next victim. He pressed a finger underneath the roegadyn’s chin, pushing it upward so the hyur could gather a good look at the bloodied mess. “The insider tip we received, why.. it was a good one.. made it a lot easier than we expected!”

“Traitors,” Mathias spat. “Garlean puppets!”

Stromwell clicked his tongue several times. “Those who pull our strings do so temporarily, dear boy.” His eyes narrowed. “But we are no Imperial flag wavers, though the talk of spies proved an effective lure..”

Mathias’ eyes widened.

“We were told we’d receive payment with each corpse. Four bodies pay well.” The men around him snickered, right as he sneered.

Artemis’ body burned, a molten-hot elixir of rage coursing through her veins. Weeks, months, years of strife — all boiling to a point, the point of no return. She felt it, the sensation building in her stomach, her nerves, in the essence of her soul. She weakly pulled herself to, bearing witness to the eventual slaughter of her comrade. Her sharp eyes caught sight of a savior in the foreground - the discarded axe Mathias had tossed, still lodged into the back of the dead, face-down goon. She struggled to stand to her feet, but did so defiantly as she clutched the grip and pulled the weapon free.

“And that payout,” Stromwell said, “starts with you.” 

Artemis screamed, the sound echoing across the vacant alley they found themselves in. Swiftly, the sharp kiss of the axe stuck into the back of the other roegadyn’s head, slicing downward. The act shook the others, irrevocably, as she pulled it free and swiped at them. 

She cut another down, with ease, as a look of fear filled Stromwell’s features. He slipped away, easing back as Mathias fell to take a knee - and the remaining au ra shot his leader a look of worry, of betrayal, before attempting to seek vengeance. His strength gave Artemis some pause, but she mustered what little she had left to tear through him. Mathias saw it, witnessed the cacophony of sudden bloodshed. As the au ra was swiftly cut down, Stromwell cursed at himself - swearing under his breath - before having to cut and run. 

In a fortunate turn of events for him, he evaded the wealth of city guards who quickly came - spurred by the sound of the viera’s cries of war. She was caught in-flux, stuck between wanting to tear through the corpses, the city guards, Mathias, herself even - as tears welled in her eyes. He stopped her, removed the axe and tossed it to the side as he briefly held her. The rage that had taken her unnerved them both. 

What unnerved them further, was the crippling revelation that someone had set them up. 

—

What was minutes had felt like hours, the adrenaline leaving Lenus’ body scarred with shock. He and Thatch weathered blows from the warrior and the other, remaining few foes. The city guardsmen formed a defensive wall behind them, disallowing for any chance of escape. The hyur managed to flick a blade, just barely incapacitating the foe he had heard before in hope of something productive coming of it. Answers that would lead to retribution.

And as he swiped his other blade at another, sticking him in the chest and sending him to the floor. The other had fared more difficultly, as the warrior proved insatiable. She dashed it from the hyur’s hands, sending him flying back to crash unto the floor. The rogue he wounded earlier had drawn an explosive, a lasting impression he flicked towards Lenus.

He reached a desperate palm out, the explosive barely in reach. And that was when it went off, exploding with gusto. Thatch cast her protective shield at the impact site, shouldering a bulk of the blast to keep the surrounding area in relative safety. The rogues trick had failed, a disaster quickly scrubbed away.

All who remained was the warrior - a bloodied, darkened form of a highlander woman who starred daggers upon Thatch. She rushed forth, barreling towards the weakened elezen as the city guard cried out in a bark of halting. 

Upon the ground, Lenus mustered what little strength he had left to sweep his leg, tripping the warrior to fall into a magical blast from Thatch. The warrior’s neck snapped, crumbling to the floor as Thatch fell backwards, landing upon her ass.

With no time to breathe, the Ul’dah security swept in to third degree the survivors, the nature of their mission an unknown still.

They explained as best they could, as Thatch stood to clarify the rest.

Thatch wiped the grime from her face, and pulled Lenus to his feet. There was a look of desperation in her eyes - a look he had not seen upon her face, ever. The sound of a viera’s cry one neither could deny. That, with her look, had made his heart sink as the hyur was whisked away by her touch. 

—

Amidst the scramble, the city guard had flooded the streets along with a select few Flames. Casualties were slim, mostly injuries to contend with and not much else, but tensions remained unfortunately high -with fear even moreso. The public would demand answers, a debacle in itself for the higher-ups to wrack their collective minds over. A council to heed, orders to inevitably give.

What the top brass concerned themselves with had mattered little in the moment, leaving the squad to grapple with the events of the day. All injured and shaken, some more than others, they gathered near the eastern entrance - just inside the city’s gate, which had now been briefly shut for sake of security. 

Garred approached them, doing away with his hood. The look upon his face was one of a weathered, wearisome sort. A look which hardly changed. But to see it now.. it had rubbed the squad in the most wronged way possible. He wanted to press further, to move - but something inside him could not. Like an instilled sort of programming.

Mathias, Thatch, and Lenus had collectively shared in their concern for Artemis - as the viera remained shaken, wracked from the outpouring of hate made manifest through the shedding of blood. 

Then, the elezen and roegadyn’s eyes met as the hyur saw to the viera.

Thatch ran her thumb across another scar upon his face. Despite the grime upon her own, she smiled still, as did he - a faint, weathered sort. Tired.

From up-high, several daggers struck the ground where they stood, some nicking half the squad with one landing in Lenus’s leg.

And two striking Thatch, one into her back and the other right into the side of her neck. 

Time served no purpose in those next few seconds, its embrace seemingly vacant as Mathias’ world darkened. A surprise attack, a last ditch effort, and all he focused on was the shift in her eyes - from a tired, but relieved sort - to shock. Complete, irrevocable shock as it slowly dawned upon her. Thatch clutched at her throat, blood spurting forth as she collapsed into Mathias’ arms. Artemis and Lenus rushed over posthaste, falling to the ground with them as she lay there, dying. The guards around them spun, applying defensive postures in the hope of defense but it seemed no further daggers had come. 

The viera felt devoid of touch, of being. The shock washing over her but not taking root. The hyur fared similarly, tears welling faintly in his eyes as his hands fumbled, failed to work. No potion to give nor spell to cast. The dagger in his leg paling in comparison to what he had felt now.

The three of them glanced up at the source - a lone silhouette atop the city’s outer wall, watching them all. With his last daggers dispensed, he bid them ado, holding four fingers up and now closing one, to make three. A final gift, just from him. In the wake of his slaughtered men, he vanished with one thought in his mind.

Payment enough for one. Good enough.

Tears welled in the roegadyn’s eyes, trailing downward as inaction and shock crippled his ability to move, to respond. 

And Thatch, even as guards distantly began to rush over, placed a bloodied palm against his cheek. Despite her pain, her inability to breathe as the blood overtook everything else, despite the life which faded from her form to wither, to become something else. 

Her eyes grew lifeless, and her hand fell. 

There, nearly cradled in the roegadyn’s arms, Thatch Sartessa had passed. Taken quickly and without care; an unfortunate circumstance, a rash act. 

Garred felt choked, the emotion barreling its way through his chest. The guilt plucking at the strings of his heart. Everything had led to this moment and, somehow, he allowed it to happen? How? His feet failed him, unable to move forward to console the squad - his squad. He fell to his knees, unveiling the man behind the mask- the broken man. His true self. 

Mathias’ ears had rung, a continuous sting which failed to leave. Refused to leave. Nothing but the absence of life and other such noise, all except for one: The hoarse, withered sobs of Artemis’s cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow [@RichmanBachard](https://twitter.com/RichmanBachard) and [@RichmanSFW](https://twitter.com/RichmanSFW) to keep up with my stories, my commission info, and my insanity.


	4. Artemis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of a horrible loss, the squad struggles to find reason. Aimless, desperate. The viera mourns all the while, in her own way.

Specks of sunlight shone upon the tent, showering its interior with a soft, golden sort of haze which kissed the hickory of her skin. The viera’s eyes crept open, slowly, with bags underneath them as the whites of her eyes wore the faintest trace of a bloodshot quality. Hardly a serene affair as, for just a moment, she awoke to a mind devoid of worry before it was grimly filled with the reality of knowing, recalling. Then, when her mind was graced with the untimely recollection of what once was, it had settled in to a disturbingly simple degree.

She awoke in the tent, alone, a chill having permeated the air in spite of the dawns coming embrace. Her fingers dug into the sides of her arms, gripping the muscle beneath as her form briefly refused to move further in that moment. She eyed the vacancy of the spot next to her; the leftover trace of another bedroll. It felt so terribly.. large without another, devoid of life as she soon rolled to lay flat upon her back. 

The dread of enduring the day to come had crept upon her slowly, a sliver of her mind crumbling to the desire of distancing herself further. It would prove a easy enough venture, to cut and run. To pack what little baggage she had left, and whisk herself away, lost to the night. Free. Where she could go, where she might end up. A sensation lay itself over her, at that thought, yet the numbness which had pervaded her form for weeks worked to nullify the clarity of her feelings. 

To remain here, it was.. simpler this way. 

She hadn’t the energy to muster the sigh that followed. 

Reluctantly, she forced herself to sit up, a small groan escaping her as she did so. For a brief moment, one hand rubbed a scar along the length of her arm; her gaze glancing around the interior of the tent until her eyes settled on the space next to her again. The crippling weight bore itself into her, a pressure she felt in her chest, her legs, her very dreams. 

Though she desired nothing but the throes of sleep, comfort would elude the viera as her thoughts would never cease. It was.. simpler this way. She dressed to the best of her ability, and then tore herself from the tent; exiting to take in the harsh chill of the morning air. Just before the unbearable heat took its toll, the leftover cold of the night before would linger still. Like a phantom unable to depart, unwilling; a ghost preferring the haunt the grounds they walked upon. She grew to dislike camp, and the company it kept. The sky bore a faint shade of red, ominous and foreboding. 

Her eyes fell upon Mathias, himself bearing a grim, tired sort of look. As the roegadyn wordlessly handed her a cup of coffee, she grasped the tin and left him with a small nod. She sat upon the nearby log, nursing the brew with several, cooling sips. Though he sat alongside the viera finally, the two shared nary a word. Mathias took a sip from his own tin, his calloused fingers gripping it tightly in spite of the warmth which heated the outer material. His look was that of a determined gaze, something she happened to share once the viera rubbed the last shreds of sleep from the corners of her eyes. 

“Sleep well?” he asked, his voice low. A grumble.

“Sure,” she lied. “You?”

“Aye,” came a lie of his own. “Just fine.” He took another sip from his brew, allowing the crisp of the morning air to compliment their tranquil demeanor a few moments more before business demanded addressing. “Last bandit camp today,” he finally said, furthering things along. “And.. we should have enough time for another hunt or two.”

She quirked a curious brow. “And what of training? Afraid I’m gonna beat your ass again?”

Despite the circumstances, he chuckled the same as ever. “Nay, my lady. Simply.. anxious.”

“Hm. Anxious that I’m going to beat your ass again.”

“Hardly.”

She narrowed her eyes, turning her head back to gaze upon the remains of the campfire from the night before. The charred logs of wood, the dwindling ash. Amidst the numbing sensation which peppered her senses, she almost could have found a small comfort in that. In the decay. 

When Artemis’ eyes briefly moved to catch sight of the look upon Mathias’ face once more, she could read him clear as the forthcoming day. There was much he seemingly wanted to say; a wealth of horrid, blubbering drivel for which to unspool to her dismay. And yet.. there was none, he offered nothing but a quiet sort of companionship. She balked at the idea, initially, knowing how the two often preferred solitude. But he proved as stubborn as she, and at the least, had served the greater purpose of staying preoccupied. 

Banditry cleanup, hunting, gathering, city patrols, sparring. Anything to keep the mind clear, free from lingering thought. Oh, how the many would linger.

She awaited a busy day, that much he could give her—and that was precisely what would take place. It was the least either of them could do, in their grief. It was simpler this way.

—

Food held no real taste, no matter the scrumptious broth. The scent of a flower, the warmth of the sun, the reassurance others might bring - none of it settled, none of it soothed. Not truly. All that was left was the pervading sense of numbness, a hollow feeling that left the viera cold. Whenever she awoke, she did so with regret—when she lay awake at night, exhausted beyond belief, the fear of what awaited her proved an effective tool in denying much needed slumber until she absolutely had to.

When Artemis closed her eyes, she saw her. The ounces of blood, the life leaving the poor elezen’s face. The pain in Mathias’ eyes, the breaking point in Lenus’ spirit. 

The fallen elezen haunted her dreams, every single night, leaving the viera a mess devoid of any possible enthusiasm come the morning. When she awoke in her tent, alone, the lingering sensation of her companion should have brought tears where there were none. She could hardly muster the energy to weep, let alone sob. No volatile reaction, no sound. A silent suffering before forcing herself to weather the events of another day - in this new world: one of grief.

Grief, and sheer, inconsolable rage.

Weeks had passed, and rarely did the full squad - what was left of it, at the least - venture out into the wilderness together. Often they would remain inside the walls of Ul’dah. If not on patrol, or something to guard or preserve, they rested instead. When they were not resting, the squad was third-degreed. The events of what had taken place shook the Flames, ever so slightly, catching the attention of Swift and even Raubahn himself. 

To say the situation was... as suspicious as it was arduous, would be an understatement.

Yet all Artemis could think of, when not made numb from the lingering dread that pained her, was the urge to kill. To slaughter. 

And it terrified her.

Something had brewed inside her, the molten hot touch of a fury unmatched by physical means. Artemis wore two faces; one of a woman disconnected from the world around her, discontent. And another, darker look. One of malice and bloodshed. She felt it, the spirit inside her hungry for something befitting a glorious battle. When she thought of the men she cut down, who had shamed her and almost murdered Mathias, she had never felt more alive.

In the throes of combat, she felt purpose.

That was when she thought of him, the bastard of a man who had taken her sister away. The wretch, the thief who posed as a supposed Garlean spy. She thought of him and his mercenary ilk, of the Empire and the terror surrounding them. What she would not give to tear him and the rest asunder; to revel in the tearing of his flesh as it was clawed away, as his bones snapped under her might. The kiss of her axe cleaving him and all those who allied themselves in two. She lived, she counted every minute she would live to see the day that she ended his life. There was nothing she desired more. One day, Stromwell would suffer. 

One day.

Until then, the vengeance which kept her soul aflame with the fury of a boiling heat would need to be fostered, persistent; channeled into something more.. productive, when she was not secluded, by her lonesome, rendered nearly catatonic from what she had experienced alongside the others. Solitude was preferable to companionship, yet she found herself grouped with companions who seemed to understand that only to varying degrees. 

When she refused Lenus’ offer to talk, to open herself and let free the anguish hidden behind her eyes, the hyur could hardly bare the rejection. He couldn’t, he didn’t. Often he would be removed from the others, busying himself all on his own. At that thought, she could only scowl. He was a fool, someone who seemed to care far too much for a person like her. She didn’t want his compassion, or.. at least thought so. 

Mathias, similarly, wished to extend an offer of solace but soon learned the error of his thinking. There was much he wished to say, yet from the outset it was clear there was something holding him back. A chain binding his every thought, a restraint to preserve the last, few shreds of strength he wanted to convey. 

She saw it in him. In him and Lenus both. The weakness that befell them had left both men aggravated, disturbed, useless. 

Yet the man she paid the most attention to, was Garred. 

When he was near, she read his face. The captain seemed offset, clearly shaken like the rest but in a coy sort of way. When she locked eyes with his single, sharp stare, she saw something else amidst the grief. Something similar to the others, but wholly different.

Guilt.

To her, it proved a small wonder why she hadn’t seen the captain much since then. 

Still, despite the suspicion which began to bubble, the most she could do now—was prepare herself for what would come next. On her own, in town, with Mathias - though she could only stomach so much of him, or anyone. Whereas the thought of her alone, visiting the memorial, was.. 

Well, she paid the notion little mind. Mathias’ little quirks and the random, on occasion, hyper-fixations were a small difficulty to weather in comparison. After a long day of work; busying the mind, bettering the body, she would sit by campfire underneath the stars and simply gaze upon them. In the last few weeks, it had grown to become a habit. The roegadyn let her be, off on his own doing only twelve knew what.

Though in a moment of weakness, she found herself thinking of Lenus as her eyes danced idly upon the glimmering starlight. Despite herself, she thought of his persistence, the way in which he fumbled over his words, his stupid grin. 

What a foul man, she thought. A tiny, upturned curve at one corner of her lips.

—

Lenus thumbed through the pages, his eyes glued properly to the contents within them. With a soft hum, he paged through one more with carefully slow fingers, pulling the aged and withered piece of parchment up, laying it back to unveil the next piece. The sun wore itself heavily upon the streets that day, yet a cooling breeze proved an ample enough excuse to sit somewhere that wasn’t the Barracks. 

He savored every second of it. Still not used to the crowds.

The spells inside the book fascinated him immensely; a wealth of potential on offer, should his aether be channeled in the right way. In the weeks since their squad was promptly wracked by the setup and loss, he had spent more and more time away from the others. Each day, his eyes occupied themselves with more books, another collection of conjurer goods shipped from Gridania. As well as what he could glean from the notes Thatch had left for herself - tiny scribblings of tips, tricks, reminders - a discipline to put into place. He thought of the lush, green embrace that was her home - and the guild therein - and wore a soft smile in turn. 

He wished to visit there again one day. One day soon, Gods willing.

Yet that would be then, while this was now. His spellcasting came simply enough at first, though a touch rough after the edges - as expected. Still, the building blocks to something more productive were becoming clear. And in that time, the solitude would do him some good.

When the thought of Thatch had not crossed his mind, that is. How he failed to save her, the pain of how he let Mathias down, and..

_Her._

Even then, thoughts of the viera clouded his mind quickly and with no recourse. How angry she must have felt at him; how disappointed and dismayed. The hyur wanted to be there for her - seven hells, there was nothing he wanted more - and yet he could not do even that. His stomach felt ticklish at the thought of her; not wanting to pry too much nor remain too distant, but in the end Lenus found little difficulty in letting the leftover grief bar him from trying either approach. He did not know how she felt, what she truly wanted. It sent his mind on a spin, a useless bout of anxiety that only distracted him from his studies.

They were what mattered most now, and then he would return to them. Better, more useful. As he always wanted. 

Seated near one of the benches in town, the day had been proving to be a particularly quaint one. Until Garred strolled by to lend a message, his movements just the slightest off kilter.

“Veli, y’all right, son?”

“I’m fine,” the hyur lied. “Just reading. Studying.”

The captain stood by, hovering over the man as he tried to concentrate. The last good eye Garred had glossed over the contents of the page. “Still at it, I see.”

With a small sigh, Lenus’ reply came sharply, simply. “I want to be better.” As a Garred opted to sit to the hyur’s left, he seated himself unsurely. Lenus rubbed the fingers of his left, bandaged hand across his forehead, attempting to keep his focus upon the page. To his dismay, no such focus was allowed. Not wholly. “Need something, sir?” he asked, almost tired in his delivery.

A ragged sigh left the roegadyn elder, his movements rattled a touch from something Lenus could not discern. Not yet. The captain let slip a quiet, frustrated sort of groan. “Just tired, son. Just tired, is all.”

The hyur made a face. “I think we all are.”

“The brass, they..” Garred narrowed his eye, the words seemingly coarse upon his tongue. “Been a poor couple’a weeks. For us all. I’m mad as can be, but..” His gloved finger trailed, circling something idly into the table as his mind wandered. “I am sorry.”

Lenus wished to ignore the apology, yet something inside him urged for the contrary. “It was not you,” he said. “Garlean spies, it..” He sighed.

Garred seemed troubled. Per the norm, his mind was elsewhere. Lenus saw it more clearly these days. His clenched jaw, his sloppier movements. The amount of grief and ridicule he received being something the hyur liked the sound of; a small victory in light of his distaste for the captain. “Garlean spies,” Garred repeatedly, a bitter taste upon his hand. “Worm their way into ye, and leave with nothin’ but the deepest parts of you.”

Lenus rose a brow, made curious by his set of words. “Mathias... told me that was not strictly speaking true, but that does not-“

“Pay him no mind,” came Garred’s harsh interruption. “He’s a fool, that one. The information we were given was tarnished, twisted, but you did good work. You and Sar...” His voice trailed, a look of remorse filling the features upon his weary face. “You did good. Never think otherwise.”

Lenus hesitated. “It certainly doesn’t feel like we did.”

Garred pressed a hand to Lenus’ shoulder, squeezing lightly. The act caught the hyur off-guard. There was a surprising amount of urgency in his voice. “Lenus, I see it in yer eyes — the need to change, to better yerself and fer that, I- I respect it.” He struggled to muster the next few words. “I did my best to prepare you all, even as I.. stood upon shakier ground, yet..” Lenus eyed the grip, Garred let go. “Be a conjurer, son. Be a knight. Be a godsdamned moogle fer all I care! Be whatever ya wanna be.. but know this. There’ll come a day where you’ll have no place here, no purpose.” The captain spoke more somberly, as if speaking from experience. “Here, the Flames, us. Leave, get out, don’t look back.”

Lenus’ brow arched itself more suspiciously. “W-Where would I go? My work is here, my comrades- my.. my sense of purpose is not so easily lost.”

“Yer eyes for the viera say otherwise,” Garred snapped.

“I never allowed that to interfere with the mission.”

“Yet it holds ya back anyway?”

Lenus held his tongue, a growing fury which built in his core. He would need to tread with care. “I don’t need that talk. Not from you; not now. I lack the tolerance.”

“Evidently ya always have..” Garred sighed. “Listen, son.. you and.. and Sartessa- ye both struck me as different.” He cleared his throat, his movements uneasy. “Unlike Adler and Krow.” Regret built in his voice. “Sartessa.. she was.. she was like a-“

Lenus would have none of it. “Don’t you speak of her,” he replied harshly. “Whatever else you have to say, say it - but without the mention of her.” The hyur flipped to another page. “You sound as if you’re giving up, and you want me to do the same.”

Garred sucked his teeth, his eye glancing elsewhere. His hands clasped together, tightening the grip against each palm. “Empire’s a force, son. Somethin’ I’m not quite sure most of us could handle.. and after—after she passed, it- well-“ His eye grew glossy, a look of melancholy upon his face. “It’s too much.”

Lenus seemed almost dumbfounded. “I am not going to leave Artemis and Mathias. I- I know I’m not up to par but I-“

Garred shook his head lightly. “No, son. You won’t have to. Soon enough, they’ll leave you.” Garred paused. ”One way, or another.”

Before Lenus was allowed another second to slip a word in, Garred removed himself from the table. He watched as the roegadyn allowed himself, reluctantly, to be pulled into a meeting near the Flame Barracks. The hyur wore a weary look, his eyes narrowing even as the captain’s words dug into his skull, his chest. Garred had always seemed.. off, in some way or another. They all could see it. Distant, gruff, preoccupied. 

In recent days, his tenure as captain had come under fire. And with that, his actions soon became twice as strange. An odd sort of remorse, whenever he was not openly spiteful or critical. The hyur would often look at him with a doubtful set of eyes, just a glint of suspicion behind them as events were played over and over in his mind. Lenus would fall asleep at night thinking on the situation that befell them, and the tragedy that followed. From everything Mathias had told him, it was clear that aught was most certainly amiss.

It was a weight upon Lenus, bearing down and withering his sense of focus. He never outright hated the man, but in light of all that had happened, he was starting to.

And for good reason.

—

Malms from the embrace of the city, she savored the freedom from noise for which she was granted. As blood trickled from the edge of her axe, she had appreciated that much. Free from noise, from erraticism; Artemis was in her element, at least in part. Were it not for the harsh terrain and horrid weather of the desert, a modicum of normalcy could have helped put her at ease.

Still, a busy day was a busy day. Resources gathered, bandits slain. In particular she enjoyed the bandit portion. Mathias had paid special attention to that, something she was well aware of. Watching as she honed her skills. With the time of the axe and sword nigh, she proved as capable a warrior as he was in no time at all. He was impressed. He was proud.

She didn’t care.

A day of training and traversing had followed, just a few more days until the others returned—and as such, all would be whisked back to inside the walls of the city. With ample time to kill, literally and figuratively, the pair continued their errands. Whatever it took to keep the mind busy with something other than remorse. It had worked thus far, and the more bandits Artemis slayed, the better equipped she was to remain in a consistent haze. 

—

What little food she had was played with, the last shred of bread used to sop the broth upon her plate. She kept it light, unable to eat very much if at all, but a day of battle rendered a stomach fit for food. Hungry for it. And so, the roegadyn had been more than happy to oblige. 

“You really get off on cooking, don’t you,” she said by campfire, the soft crackle and pop of its embers upon the wood a nice, faint song to accompany their chat. 

He too had slowly worked at the food upon his plate, finishing it slowly. “Aye, keeps my hands steady and mind sharp.”

“Must be nice. A hobby like that.”

“‘Tis, though admittedly not always. It can be.. a chore, like any other, if not done well.” He paused, sipping from his canteen of water. “Forgive my asking but you have some, don’t you? Surely you must.”

With her meal finished, she had set the plate aside. “Have what?”

“Hobbies.”

The viera seemed cold in response, rubbing the knuckles upon her left hand. “I suppose.”

His head shook itself lightly, in an amused sort of way. She would never grant him much, never too much ground to stand on and forge something more. But the smaller moments still counted. She was someone he grew to respect, regardless of the moments of scowling upon her face. Mathias, he—

“Four,” she interrupted. 

He quirked a brow, having just finished his own plate. “I beg your pardon?”

Her eyes were cast to the side in a narrowed squint, giving the recollection further thought. She raised the accompanying fingers briefly as she spoke, “Stromwell held up four fingers, then closed to just three. Just before he left. Four.. not five.”

It took a moment for the implication to settle upon Mathias’ mind. He looked at her, as the viera’s gaze met his own. To her surprise, he did not seem as oblivious or blind as she might have expected. “Garred,” he said with a labored sigh. “He’s acted strangely for.. months now, as it were, sure, but do you really think..?”

“What else could it be?” she asked. “The bastard is weak of will, and aged to boot. I’m not..” she sighed, her outpouring of words already lessening her otherwise cold demeanor, “I do not mean to say it’s factual, but-“

“-but what else could it be..”

“There, you’re learning.”

Mathias briefly rubbed his chin, the concern on his face growing. “But.. why? For what purpose would our captain betray us in such a manner? He’s a bastard, sure; on that we agree. Though.. I still cannot believe it.”

“Can’t.. or _won’t?”_

His lips pursed, unsure of what to say next. 

So she spoke in his stead. “Men lie, Mathias.. rarely are they as decent or willing to try as you and Len. All men stumble and fall, yet many betray one another. Constantly. Since I’ve arrived here.. it seems endless; like.. like a disease. Not caring who is caught in their path of destruction.” Still, the same as him, she gave it considerable thought. “I would not know his reasoning, yet I wouldn’t care. Somehow, in some way, he strikes me as..”

“Complicit,” Mathias finished for her, as the roegadyn was leant forward, an elbow upon his knee as his eyes stared into the pit of the fire. “You may be right.. in all likelihood, you are. And if so.. we’ll handle it.”

“Oh, will we?”

That was when his eyes met her own once more; a determined look having replaced the doubt that was once there. “We will,” he confirmed. 

She could see it then, a similar rage building somewhere inside him as hers did and continued to do so. What he would do with that assumption, she wasn’t quite sure. But the intent of others mattered little in her mind, what with her current state. “Be lucky I simply don’t march back to him and slice the cunt in two myself. No evidence, nothing.” 

He took one last sip of his canteen. “We can’t do that. You can’t. We’re people of honor.”

“I’m told I can’t do a lot of things, but does that stop me?”

“No, but your boundless thirst for blood is not worth the loss of answers we could get out of him. Not everyone can fall so easily to the sharpness of your axe. Proud as I am-“

“I’m pleased that you’re so proud.” She stood from where she sat, a small huff escaping her as she did so. Stepping over the log, she made for her tent. And, just before entering, she left him with one last piece to chew on. “Do what you feel is best, Mathy, but don’t be stupid. Honor means nothing to the dead. Don’t let it bind you.”

As she retired to bed, he was left alone to stir amongst the implications laid before him. His eyes fell upon the fire once more, a solemn moment under the cover of moonlight. The days were soaked with a foreboding dread, coating their every step. He had felt it in his gut, a feeling he was unable to shake. Were he not careful, Artemis would lose herself to the fury which emboldened her every step. Lenus could fall into the pit of despair he found himself in, and never leave. Thatch could haunt his every dream. And Garred.. could get one of them slain. Again, should the implication were true. Upon the dawn of a new, uncertain age, it would take considerable care not to fall astray. Garleans, and talk of cultists and primals and rebellion. The future held just as much darkness as it did the boon of light; a harsh line to walk, to straddle. 

On that night, alone, illuminated by the grace of campfire light, he felt horribly small. A wall of stone; of honor and duty, unraveled by fear and grief. And even so, his few lingering thoughts had moved to something more.. curious and impulsive. A book amongst Thatch’s final few belongings which the squad held onto. As well as the building sort of contempt he was developing for his captain, Garred. How the implication of betrayal burned his soul.

It gnawed at him, and would do so for the whole night.

—

The day that followed had ushered an oncoming series of clouds, with rain soon to splatter the lands they traversed. Early in the morning after savoring another brew, Artemis told Mathias of her plan to distance herself that day, heading off on her own to.. somewhere. She hadn’t the care to specify, mentioning only that she needed time to herself.

He understood. 

That it fell upon the day Lenus and Garred returned to camp, proved a mite amusing to the likes of him. Perhaps it was for the best.

While Lenus and Mathias were pleased to be in each other’s company after their arrival, the hyur naturally wore a look of disappointment at the absence of his crush. The woman he so desired. Though, what little disappointment he weathered had lessened upon hearing Garred’s mouth once more. In lieu of disappointment came further annoyance. He told Mathias of the captain’s strange behavior and even stranger words; something the other roegadyn would need to keep a watchful eye on. 

Artemis’ suspicions weighed heavily upon his mind, a weight he carried with him all day even as the hyur unknowingly added to it. As such, the events of that day proceeded only fairly differently. Garred and Lenus were there to momentarily stretch their legs and assist with a cleanup of errands. Orders from on high. Garred seemed.. bitter from the entire ordeal, sooner wanting a cactuar in his pillow than to spend another second out in that desert.

On that note, the squad could agree.

Still, Garred was seen having brought a bottle to his lips every so often. The captain did his best to hide the act, but the men noticed regardless. 

Throughout the day, Garred remained content to sit at camp while the others finished their work. Lenus spent that time airing his displeasure to Mathias, on and on. 

Frustration built, weighing further upon his mind. And with the day ticking at a slow pace, to his everlasting dismay, it did little to soothe the worry inside of him. 

—

Come nightfall, Artemis still had yet to return. Something which made Lenus stir. As much as the hyur understood her need for space, he.. missed her terribly. For all his boasting and proclivity to remain a nuisance in her eyes, he grew to fancy her. Finding something alluring in the depths of her scowl. Though he wished not to seem as a burden to anyone, he could not help but feel as such. 

The rain which had begun to lightly fall forced him to continue his studies from underneath a tarp, hastily put together. Rainfall hadn’t bothered him much but the hyur took great care not to damage the books he’d collected so far. Most of all, hers. 

And still, Garred seemed as much a nuisance as ever, having stumbled over, bottle in hand. “Still studyin’ are ya, Veli?” 

The look of annoyance in his eyes was clear for anyone to see, yet Garred somehow could not. Or, simply, ignored it. “Yes,” Lenus confirmed. “I am.” 

“Heh.” Garred sat himself just outside the tarp, bringing the bottle to his lips once more to drink from the swill inside. “Best not to damage her leftovers.. good lad.”

“She’d turn me into a chocobo if she saw that I did.“

Garred harked a laugh. “Sartessa never showed it much but the girl held quite the mean streak. Probably why Krow liked her so much, the witch.”

Lenus shot him a glare, no further pleasantries left to give. “Watch your mouth.”

Garred raised his brows, a playful look in his eye. “Oh, but I am, boy! Lookie-here.” He sipped from his drink once more. “Want some?”

Lenus sighed. “Please, just leave me be.”

In the distance, Mathias was seen reluctantly stepping into one of the tents. Lenus caught sight of it, but paid the act little mind when greater annoyances were afoot.

“And I told ye to leave when ya had the chance, son. The Flames would be a waste of yer talents, an’ yet you persist.” The half-drunken roegadyn hummed. “Empire might like the look of you, boy; might fancy the cut of yer gib, should they keep whatever part of ya the bastards don’t break down.”

“Garred, stop.”

“I tried, y’know. To resist. But..” His loose lips were spilling forth a half-drunken truth which began to rub Lenus entirely the wrong way, causing the hyur to rub at his temples. Still, the captain continued. “The Flames never appreciated me.. but she did.”

“Who,” Lenus snapped. _“Thatch?”_

Garred paused, a somber look washing over his features to plaster the gruff and grizzled man with remorse. When he looked at Lenus, he did so in the most honest way possible. More honest than the captain had been in weeks. “No, son.. not her.”

—

He felt a betrayer, a pang of guilt running through him as he sat down. Mathias swallowed hard, his calloused fingers easing closer towards the binding upon the front of her journal. His conscience pulled at him, putting the grief stricken man through the ringer; a wealth of guilt at the thought of prying too much. The last will and testament of their fallen friend. She deserved more than to have her belongings tampered with, but something inside him demanded some sort of.. closure. Something, anything. 

He wanted to be better, needed to be better. For the others, for her, for himself. 

Yet his fingers undid the bind upon the front, pulling the strap back.

With a careful touch, he crept the journal open to gaze upon the first several pages. What followed was an insight impossible to glean otherwise; brief mentions of an arduous trip from her home, lamenting the passing of her sister Amelie, talk of her first few days as a member of the Immortal Flames and the mixture of excitement, fear, and doubt she felt as a result. Her desire to have her younger sibling be proud of her, well and truly, as well as the crippling weight of living under someone’s shadow as she had.

His heart was stuck firmly in his throat, his mind alight with perspective and remorse. Each page was dotted with twists and curves, certain doodles here and there, peppered throughout. Some pages wore nothing but the mark of illustration; a cactuar, a flower, a conjurer’s seal, how the sun crept over the mountains each morning. Rough sketches of Artemis, Lenus, Garred. Mostly the viera, he found. Almost every single one.

He briefly read talk of the squad, and her opinions therein. Personal insight into the others, some of which had not occurred to even him. Including Garred. Thatch was.. anxious, unsure, a touch judgmental at points. The moments of low she faced - for which there were many - had surprised him, as she never let it show. Not often. Her smile remained paramount, yet her mind was sharp. 

The chatter outside bore itself down upon him, the sounds of Lenus growing continuously more frustrated at Garred’s seemingly half-drunken chastising. Mathias grit his teeth, forcing his mind to focus elsewhere.

He hated himself for having stooped so low, knowing entirely well that it was something she might never forgive, were she there to judge. But he was a weak man in that moment, unable to help himself. 

The journal spoke of the kingdom of Ishgard, and how she would have liked to visit it someday. How nothing truly remained in Gridania for her any longer. How Rafaela would never warm herself to Thatch’s presence. Her entires also spoke of fear; page upon page littered with remorse and terror, of the future and how potentially full of Garlean influence it might be. How she heard tale of impenetrable bases, rife with machinery the likes of which she seemed unprepared for. 

As Lenus threw an agitated scream upon Garred, followed by a series of curses, Mathias turned to the next page: the final two entries.

On one lay the final excerpt, her morning thoughts before the mission inside the city walls. Hopes, fears. Doubt, dread. Even then, it seemed as though something was off. He should have seen it then, but didn’t.

And on the other, to the writings left, was a spread of Mathias’ head, illustrated to a wonderful degree. The crinkle of his brow, the purse of his lips. How scars began to fancy the real estate upon his face. His intense, captivating stare.

But above all, a feature he did not currently have. Sharp, winding black markings which covered the wealth around his eyes, along his cheeks and brow. A suggestion for what he might look nice in, she scribbled. 

Mathias’ brow furrowed, a horrific sensation worming its way through his chest so roughly he felt as though his lungs had been crushed. The lump in his throat worsened, and yet the only thing he began to see, was red. 

He closed the book shut, setting it aside before swiftly exiting the tent to stand to his feet. Lenus appeared shaken, annoyed by Garred’s drunken stupor. 

“Yer a godsdamned fool, boy,” he barked. “Just like Adler! Fools, naive fools!”

Lenus shot back in an instant. A wrinkle in his brow, fury in his eyes. “The only fool here is you, you drunken sonuvabitch!” And that was when Lenus struck him with a hard punch. Shocked, Garred countered with a slam of his own, sending the hyur sliding hard on to the ground.

Mathias lunged at him: every lingering thought, every trace of anger, grief, betrayal, and confusion boiling to the point of no return. With a yell he came up to slug their squad leader right in the jaw, sending the half-drunken roe to collapse into the mud upon the ground. Lenus moved back, the fury in his eyes having been replaced with his own shock as he sat upon the ground just inches from them. Mathias rubbed his knuckles just briefly, before rushing over to sock the captain once more, disallowing his move to recoil. 

When Adler straddled the man, he did so harshly. The pair briefly struggled, Garred shouting claims of insubordination, until Adler struck him again. As lightning crackled itself across the sky, he tightened his fist to send a dozen more slams into the side of the captain’s face. _”What did you do,”_ the second in-command ordered, a dark chill to his voice even amidst the rainfall. “Tell me!”

There, something inside Garred had seemingly snapped. Battered and bruised as he was, the words spilled forth anyway. “I.. I did not know, they didn’t tell me there would be-“

“Fucking traitor!” Mathias spat. “You’d let us all die by Garlean means, and for what? _For coin, for cowardice?!”_

Garred blubbered, a mixture of emotions upon his face in that moment. To look up, clouded as his eye was, to see Mathias - wetted by the rainfall, his fist cocked back, the look of not just malice in his eyes but hurt as well. And when Garred looked over to spot Lenus, allowing the situation to continue, the captain knew then and there.

It was over.

Still, he struggled to speak. “You don’t.. understand.”

Before Adler could get a word in edgewise, their captain struggled beneath his grip, clutching a hand to try and force the fellow roegadyn off of him. Before long, Garred had reached for a mud-slick rock, clutching at it weakly as Lenus had turned his attention away, drawn by something else. Someone else. He rose from the ground to walk over, pleadingly.

Garred mustered what little strength he had left to quickly bash the side of Mathias’ face with the blunt force of his acquisition. The fellow roe was offset by the hit, sent falling to the side. As Garred rolled to gain better footing, so too had his second-in-command—

When Artemis rushed in, hitting the captain with a shoulder-check that sent him crashing down upon the ground once more. To the dismay of Lenus and his approaching pleas, she had ignored them. Even Mathias, angry as he was, asked for the viera to steady her hand. The grip upon her axe tight, and palpable. She had it raised, ready to slink it into the aged flesh of a man she grew to despise. Garred keeled over, fumbling to settle upon his knees as he looked up at her. Once more, the notion that some shred of normalcy may return had been quelled. Destroyed by them, by her. Artemis wore the look of something unlike the others; almost a silhouette compromised of malice and despair and nothing else. She looked upon him like he were nothing but filth. In her eyes, she was right.

The faint singe of red colored her intense gaze, brows sharpened into something direct. She had no energy for words, the ragged quality of her breathing and the slight shake of her wrists evident enough of that. The viera took another step forward, as the men followed suit. 

“Arte,” urged Mathias, his breathing somewhat hoarse. “Death is too easy an exit for the likes of him, he will be punished for what he did, just-“

Len, too, urged a desperate set of words towards her in spite of his own, burgeoning frustration. “Arte.. he’s a traitorous bastard but this- this isn’t you!” 

Her lips pursed slowly, the grip upon her axe tightening as her breathing soon came to a stop. Time seemed slow in those next few moments; a wealth of possibility running through her mind. What she was, how she was perceived by others, who she could become. There was a fury inside her no one person could control or soothe; it was a beast, hungry for something peace would never grant her. 

Artemis would never know peace, not as she was. In lieu of peace, came hate. And while the shred of focus she still retained was there, hate was proving an all-too-effective method of coping. Through flesh and feeling, she was left numb. Hollow. But hate.. hate she could grow to work with, to be filled by. A misery to love her particular company.

_“Yes it is,”_ she finally replied, harshly, before swinging the blunted edge of the poll upon her axe into the side of Garred’s face.

The captain fell to his side, knocked out cold in an instant. Artemis leered over his unconscious form, the axe slipping to remain in just one hand as she breathed an arduous breath. The muscles upon her back heaved with every intake of air, her eyes closed as she allowed the rage she felt to be channeled into something more, something fierce. Somehow, in some way, she mustered an ounce of mercy where there soon would be none left. Her blood boiled, the fury in her soul craving nothing but vicious retribution. Though resolve was fueled by anger, it was patience that yielded the utmost focus. What she felt in the pit of her stomach was an abyss, endless as she demanded the flesh of fallen foes - and Garred would not do, not as he was now. Not yet. As she turned, under the cover of a rain-filled night, the men saw her eyes the most clearly of all. A sharp, piercing stare that unnerved them both.

_“Get him out of my sight.”_

—

When the rain stopped, it seemed to take hours to do so. A mist lingering longer than any one person would’ve wanted in the moment. The remainder of the squad was left mutually unnerved, numb to the frustration that had built over the last several days. 

Mathias and Lenus granted Artemis time to herself, as the men loaded their supposed traitor of a captain into a cart to be delivered back to the Flames of Ul’dah. The roegadyn agreed to go it alone, needing that solitude as he absolved his comrade of having to deal with the mess further. 

Garred would be brought before the authorities, the claims of what had taken place presented before Swift and the rest of the upper brass. Mathias would handle it, as well as what might come next, even if that involved his own acts leading to a form of punishment. Garred’s seeming betrayal would prove difficult to pass, but the counts of misdemeanors which piled upon him would help further things along. That, and testimony. Answers would be seized, in time. The others were owed that much.

With that, he left Lenus with hardly a sentence. He found no strength to muster, a will weathered by a taxing day. 

Watching him disappear into the night had left Lenus cold, disheveled. In his moment of low, he found no other solace but to seek out the presence of the woman who despised him so. A fool’s errand yet one he chose nonetheless. 

When he found her, to her surprise, she was by the edge of the camp. Sat upon one of the last few crates left, simmering still, her eyes cast towards the clearing of the night sky.

Lenus hesitated, his lips trembling faintly before forcing himself to speak. He felt as though one wrong move could prove fatal; his words providing little comfort to the likes of her. He knew that, he did. And still, he pressed forward anyway.

“..got room for one more?”

Artemis hardly regarded his presence, leaving him with a silence bordering on a discomfort which was almost too much. 

Still, she finally spoke, her voice weak. “What do you want, Len.”

His hands fumbled with the other, fidgeting together as he considered what he might say next. His lips pursed, the look in his eyes the most unsure they had seemed in weeks. Not since...

“I... didn’t want you to be alone.” His words came simply, from somewhere deep in his heart which ached evermore. 

The look of a subdued sort of anguish upon her face had deepened, her tired eyes desperately wanting to close. Yet couldn’t. “I am alone. It’s not your job to check on me, or look after me. I don’t need- I don’t-“

“Arte, I’m sorry.”

She snapped her head towards him, the tiredness in her eyes having been replaced with annoyance. “Sorry for WHAT?” 

In light of her anger, he felt comparatively small. Crushed by not just the weight of his own failure and inadequacy, but the feeling of burdening someone else with his woes and concern. Most of all, her. “I.. I care about you!” came his cry, frustration in his tone. “It isn’t a jo- I.. I care about us, about Mathias, about Thatch. I care about you! I’m not..”

“Not what? Not _what, Len?_ ”

Lenus seemed to want to scream, to air his discontent out into the night sky - and yet he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Shaken from the day. Seven hells, the past few weeks, he hardly mustered the energy to slump against the edge of the crate, sliding down it to sit upon the ground. His forearms settling upon his knees, his eyes glossy. “I’m not.. I’m not.. good at this. Talking to you, or training, or... I go to sleep and all I can think of is how disappointed in me Mathias is, how much you despise me, the life fading upon her face.. I hate it, I _fucking hate it._ ” His voice grew weaker, the somber tone degrading the quality of his words. “And I can’t get you to open up to me. I can’t be there for you like I want to be. I can’t even do _that.”_

With some reluctance, Artemis moved herself from the edge to settle lower upon the ground, like him. It felt like an age before she spoke again, forcing herself to choose careful words. “You feel guilty, Mathias feels guilty — but you shouldn’t. It was.. it was all of us. It was that fucker Stromwell, it was Garred, it was _me._ ” A sigh escaped her, shaken and strained. There was more she could have said. Perhaps more that a sliver of her wanted to, yet she refrained. Something pulled at her, the wall she built a comfort to lean against. Knowing the futility of that, she did so anyway. But to see her comrades pained as they were.. it worked to chip away at her edge. “Were I not so shaken that day, I could have moved us out of the way.. I could have, and I didn’t.” Her words seemed bitter. “I.. that guilt will never leave me. It’s apart of me, like it’s apart of you.”

He looked at her, finding comfort at the sight of her face.

She looked back. “You.. don’t have to check up on me, you know. I’m a big girl.”

“Yes,” the hyur said with a sigh. “You are a big, scary, pretty girl, and yet I...” He paused, regret seeping into his voice. “Pray.. tell me I didn’t just say that aloud.”

Artemis’ face slowly turned to give him a look. “Disgusting.”

For the first time in weeks, Lenus dispelled a quiet but hearty sort of laugh. And, despite her better nature, Artemis smiled faintly at that. Neither with him nor at him. 

He was so.. stupid. 

That laugh would soon dissipate, as thoughts of Thatch were mutually shared between the two. “I miss her,” he weakly said, on the verge.

Artemis did not outwardly express what she felt in that moment. yet the look in her eyes proved evident enough. “Me too,” came her reply. Shaken, curt. It was enough, it would have to be.

Lenus broke down into a quiet sob, his knees brought up to his chest as his arms wrapped around them. A frown creased her lips, the furrowing of her brow having shattered the look of anger and malaise upon her face—as she placed a solemn hand upon his shoulder. 

The clouds had parted, giving way to the star-littered sky. Tiny, glimmering specks of possibility. Of light, of what once was and what might be. The past and the present. She had loved the stars. And now, a single one twinkled against the dark. A goodbye, a possibility, a promise.

—

The Garlean base, to his surprise, seemed as packed as ever. Hundreds of black and red shades littering the foundation; engineers, training regimens, security protocols. Stromwell smiled. The Empire were a curt, airtight people. Uptight, rigid, angry.

He thought of a few similar seeming people, in that moment.

He felt her presence, the armored spymaster having approached from behind. When he turned to meet her, he did so with a smile. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

She squinted at him, and before she could speak the rogue had spoken first. “They’re coming, I know they are.“

“One of your men,” she said. “My spies tell me one lived, and spilled all.”

He scoffed, leaning against the railing. “What I get for such shitty loyalty..”

Despite their difference in size, he felt an ounce of intimidation from her. He had to give her that. “If you desire the rest of your coin, you know what you must do,” came her cold words. “The plan continues unabated.”

“You’re awful cold for a miqo’te, deary. Someone take away your nip?”

She drew a dagger to his throat, catching the man off-balance. The intense gaze of her emerald eyes the only thing he could see. “Prove your worth, dearheart, and I won’t stain my armor with your pathetic blood.”

He grinned. 

—

When the sun rose, it did so with a clarity she had not seen in weeks. The sight of it would bring Thatch and her smile to the forefront of Artemis’ mind. Her favorite time of day, punctuated by the sobering reality that was the makeshift grave or.. tribute that was cultivated just by the edge of the cliff which overlooked the planes of Thanalan. A series of rocks piled just before a wooden insignia which bore a trinket which belonged to her, along with several flowers; all carefully picked and placed. 

The elezen was buried elsewhere, put to rest in part due to the Flames’ memorial service. She was home, a part of the nature which she savored so. But here.. here, a sliver of spirit would remain. A marker, a presence.

Artemis looked it over, for one last time, before her and the others would pack up the rest of their camp and return to the city. Duty had called, ushering another objective of utmost importance that demanded their presence. The next step; a chance for retribution. 

Mathias stood alongside her, a grim look upon his face. He trembled to speak, unsure if the silence between them deserved to be broken. Out of respect. To the viera, to her. 

“Sleep well?” he solemnly asked, his eyes glossy. 

“No,” she admitted. “You?”

“No.. no, I did not.”

Soon after, he placed a gentle hand upon the viera’s shoulder—which she, inevitably, covered the top of with her own hand. Just briefly.

It was enough. It would have to be.

Artemis and him shared a look, saying all that needed to be further said. He nodded, simply, and left her presence. He headed off to finish the remnants of his task, before Ul’dah beckoned them back.

There, Artemis stood alone, caught upon the precipice of acceptance, grief, and rage. No would would heal so easily, this one least of all. She knew that, and would bear the mark of her trauma well — whether she wanted to, or not.

A lone tear fell from her eye. Just one. The numbing wave which spread across her allowing only so much to spill forth. She felt warm; horribly hot from the grief she allowed to confront for just a moment. 

She took another step, one with trepidation. Wanting to be closer to what little memorial they could afford with so little time, in spite of the internal cry to push herself away from it. Away from the edge. Her eyes briefly met the cliffs edge; an easier fate to befall her, yet not one she could make peace with. When her mind scrounged up the thought of her sister, she did so with the remorse that other faces would follow. Not just the burgeoning acceptance of the comrades she had left, but the faces of men she utterly despised. Turgid grins and regretful stares. Things which kept her blood heated to a scorching degree, and her muscles tense. Instead of closing her eyes with grief at night, unable to rest, she would fall asleep counting the days until she would let her fury spill forth.

It kept her going, kept her alive. 

Her sister was gone, free from the woes of Eorzea and the world at large. There was a certain kind of peace in that, something she could accept. The living would suffer, they would flourish and thrive, and crumble and wither all in equal measure.

Artemis would ensure that her suffering would not be felt alone.


	5. Garred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The captain, fallen from what little grace he had, laments how things have turned out—leaving the remainder of the squad to put an end to things... for now.

—  
 **No Mission Too Difficult**  
—

Soft, flowing locks of auburn-colored hair had doused his sleeping face, draping over the coarse patches of the weathered skin with which he bore. It felt.. ticklish, a tingle for which the morning complimented well. His eye crept open, then, half-lidded from sleep but still, he smiled all the same when he looked upon her face. Gazing upon the beauty as she placed a hand upon the wealth of his chest. 

“G’mornin,” he quietly said, not a shred of remorse in his voice, only a faint exhaustion leftover from the night before.

Mara grinned, moving to reach up and press a tired but pleasant kiss to his lips. “Good morning, love..” Her hand slid, running to bestow him a playful pinch as soon as he lazily began to doze.

He jerked slightly, added by a laugh. “A’right, lass. I’m up now! I’m up!” 

“Are you?” The viera hummed. “Pray tell me you won’t fall back asleep, like last time..”

He chuckled, settling himself upon the bed, allowing wakefulness to take its hold. “I’m.. I’m old now, lass.. an’ I cannot guarantee much these days.” He readjusted himself upon the bed per her few, deliberate taps, allowing the viera to snuggle herself closer to him. “Though I can guarantee one thing, honestly and true.” A shadow briefly moved across the nearby window which light bore itself through. His eye caught the last of it, before the sunshine quickly bled through the fabric once more. Showering the bedroom the couple lay in, light had illuminated the cozy, refined feel of it all. Soft materials and hardened wood, something handmade but not without clasa. Upon another pleasant Doman morning, it proved a promising day.

Still, she soon offered to indulge him, despite her forthcoming tease. “Hm.” She raised her head to look at him, her chin against his breast. “And what might that be..?”

“Yer the most prettiful thing I’ve ever done seen in all me days.”

Mara froze him with a stare, before finally rolling her eyes as he lightly chuckled. “You are as poor with words as you’re good with your hands.”

“But I am good with my hands, aren’t I?”

Mara bestowed him another pinch, which followed several as the lovers began to tussle, to and fro upon the bed amidst a sea of soft giggles and tired groans. 

Work could wait. 

—

With the hoe slung across his shoulder and the other goods in hand, the roegadyn departed from their home and moseyed with a touch of care as he headed down the small set of wooden steps, a soft creak with every descent. While the suns embrace was staunch, the cooling kiss of a faint breeze had never failed to leave his skin for long as he made his way for the fields. In the distance, they would bloom—a workload toiled with day after day, with a patience that had long since simmered. Another long day would demand much from the crops, and the outpouring of seed and supplies to follow. With a shaken breath, his boots set along the pebbled trail, past the flowing, pastel shrubs of the cherry blossom trees which littered his and Mara’s yard, as well as the surrounding plots. He gave a smile at that, another pleasantry to bask in. A day fraught with heaps of sweat, aching muscle, and the insurmountable wealth of boredom that often accompanied the tasks at hand were.. something to grin and bear, but Garred had long since learned that it was the little things. 

The quieter moments, the smaller details, that made things worthwhile.

When he reached the fields he did so with a heavy sigh, one distilling concentration into his form. The roegadyn set his tools down and, soon enough, settled himself into a mode to work. With some luck, he wagered, a courteous neighbor might soon join his and support his labor; another worker tending to their own bounty. Time would tell. Time was often cruel and elusive, too, watching as the ticks went by upon his pocket watch. How the sun would move, inching ever so forth across the sky. What he wanted was not conducive to what he would receive, a tale as old as time itself.

He tended to the fields, alone, raking through the soil to prepare a fresh assortment of seeds to bury beneath. What was not fresh, was waiting. Stocks of vegetables littered the other rows, awaiting his careful touch and appropriate cutlery. He awaited that moment with bated breath, to cut his foes down to size with a hefty blade. It was theater to him, an excuse to revel in some semblance of foolery.

When out for long, like so, his mind would often wander as well—and it did so at the thought of Mara, someone so surprising and sudden, having made him a changed man. The feeling of something.. lighter than air; tingly, warm, it peppered his nerves. Her knowing smirk, eyes withholding so much and only bestowing so little. She kept him sharp.

Without her the roegadyn had felt as though he were an old blade, horribly dulled by the passage of time, pain, and regret.

His failure, his inadequacy. It would never leave him, it refused to. But her touch proved an effective balm, good enough to soothe the burns for a time. It would be enough. It had to.

As he gripped another stock and went to carefully pull the encased greens from their embrace, he was met with resistance. An oddity he ensured not to fall to again and yet he did so anyway. Strangely, it felt as though the shrub was bound to something - a thing which refused to let go. 

A minor streak of frustration had spread across him, pushing the roegadyn to hastily reapply his strength and pull harder. 

When he did so, the stock came loose from the surrounding dirt, the tight grip of a pale, dirtied hand around its base.

Garred had only noticed at the last possible moment, a chill running up his spine would disbelief would not do. He quickly salvaged the greens that he could, slipping them into the basket to join the others. As he did so, concern filled him. He wanted nothing more than for his imagination to have ran wild, torturing him with the allure of the fantastical. And, yet, something had compelled to move back and examine the hand. It was.. active, yearning for the touch of something to replace what it had lost. Without thinking he applied his own grip, and was met with a firm shake and subsequent pull. 

He muffled the scream from his maw and attempted to counter, struggling to pull back as more of the body found itself rising desperately from the soils muck. 

When he mustered the strength to yank farther back, he did so with immense regret as the roegadyn pulled the lively corpse with him. 

He was frozen with fear, the shock keeping his eye glued to the sight. Upon her knees, his hand still desperately in her clutches, the horridly pale, decaying flesh of the eleven was made clear in the light. She looked up at him, a vacant, cloudy stare which bore directly into his own sight. 

Her lip trembled, mouthing something no man could possibly hear. 

Garred screamed outright, stumbling back to fall squarely upon his ass. There, in the soil, having crushed two other vegetable stocks, he looked in horror at the fallen woman. Still staring, still mouthing. 

Behind him, another corpse desperately tore through the outer crust of the dirt to free herself to the suns embrace. He looked back. Another pale, even further decayed roegadyn looked at him with a look of something.. darker, more disappointing. “You let it happen again, father,” she said. “You let it happen again.” Her voice came so horribly shrill, an unnerving chill as the words barely crossed from her broken maw. 

“You let it happen again,” Thatch had followed to his dismay, slowly beginning to crawl towards him. Garred screamed again, the wealth of fear having built so far that it spilled forth. He clawed his way out of the dirt and through the grass, struggling to book it into a sprint away from the fields. As more hands slowly begun to crawl up from the depths. 

He ran. He ran for what felt like eons in such a horrid, fleeting moment. His thoughts were a sham, his heart still. Where there were no tears, only shock had remained. In his haste Garred desperately worked his way back to the front yard of his home with Mara. His movements slowed. Even had she been home and not away on assignment, he knew he needed to cool himself as he took several, ragged breaths when reaching the stairs.

Yet something had awaited him, shrouded by the shadow of the porch. It was a figure, shimmering black with glowing, fiery red eyes. Ever the loose foot, he stumbled back again. The bad knee always making itself known at the worst possible times.

The creature seemed a monster to him, something frail and demonic with a weapon amidst its possession. In that moment Garred proved a weak man, no fight left as he began to plead with the being - silent and stoic as it was.

When it hoisted the axe-like weapon and hastily brought it down upon him, it did so with glee. The serrated edge carving into flesh and bone with a thick, hearty chunk - a sound so familiar but entirely distinct. His last moments were of incredible pain.

And then she swung again.

~~~

The roegadyn awoke in his cell, beads of sweat having draped the aged, wrinkled breadth of his forehead. His body remained shaken, a terrible chill creeping over him as reality settled in. Reality—in the face of something warm, and perfect, even his dreams were laced with the sins that the weight of reality wrought. His sins. The inescapable shreds of what once was, unfurling into a twisted pile of regret and shame. There, upon the cold stone of the jails floor, he thought of Mara. Who she was, what she did. How she utterly enraptured him in such a short amount of time.

His thoughts simmered and stirred, leaving a wealth of ache to remain in his chest. He hadn’t the time to grieve, however. Not when the creak of the nearby jailers door came to, and in walked his—former—second in command.

Garred barely regarded his presence. The faint echo of every footfall coming closer as the younger man reached his cell. Mathias looked down upon him with something more than simply a righteous anger in his eyes.

Disappointment.

“Avert yer eyes, son,” Garred weakly said, his throat slightly parched. “I’m nothin’ to glare at. Not anymore.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Ya always did..”

Despite himself, a faint smile crept upon Adler’s lips. “I’m-“

Garred cut him off. “Why are ye here? To come and gloat? To boast endlessly about how ya had a woman finish the job for ya?” He laughed. “Krow always struck me as the most competent.”

“I’m here of my own accord,” Mathias replied curtly, fetching a chair to place in front of the cell. He seated himself backwards upon it, his eyes still wearing a look of something distasteful. “Why.”

Garred grumbled, then fell silent. Soon, he glanced over with an almost befuddled look. “W-Why what..?” He rolled his lone eye, soon realizing. “Fer Twelve’s sake, I told Swift and the brass everything I knew.”

“I caught but a glimpse of that reasoning. But I am not them, I want to know. More, fully. And you’re going to tell me.”

Garred sighed, leaning back against the bars. “Haven’t ya got a war to go fight, hero? A merry band of soldier to lead helplessly into the fray? ‘‘Twas what you wanted, was it not?”

“Our plans will come to fruition soon enough. I’m here because I want to be.” He paused. “I have to be.”

“Ya don’t have to play tough around me, son. The others aren’t here to see ya.. no girlfriends, no boyfriends, no commanders. No one to impress!”

Mathias held his tongue, a spark of fury having lighted in his being. He recalled the night. Of how his fist pummeled the captain’s face into a battered mess. His hand tightened, balling slowly, the faint sound of leather coming off of it. “When I first joined the Flames.. I wished to make a difference.”

“‘Ere we go.”

“After so much time at sea with my mates, I.. after the crash, I had naught but a desire for change. I needed it. My soul demanded I make something more out of myself. I could have gone anywhere; joined any guild, but I came here. Ul’dah has.. a way of drawing people together..”

Garred looked at him once more, finding some wisdom in the last few pieces of his words. 

“I was scared. Frightened of not being good enough, letting others down, being seen as inadequate. It’s always been my fear.. yet I press on anyway. I kept.. moving, and pushing. And found companions along the way.” He paused. “At first glance you were the beginnings of what I wanted to become.”

“D’oh, how sweet..”

“A capable, respected man of honor. And duty. Like in the stories I read as a boy at my orphanage.” His eyes wandered, focusing on something not physical but distant, drearily, in his mind. “Why throw that all away..? Honor, duty. For love?”

Garred rolled his choice of words around in his head several times, desperate to articulate them. “What is honor when compared to a woman’s love, eh? What is duty when compared to cradlin’ a child in yer arms? The laughter of friends, the peacefulness of a good sleep.” Garred gave a lowly chuckle. “The Gods are cruel, son. They built us for things other than your honor and duty. Bah.” He waved a lazy yet still dismissive hand.

“A Garlean spy wormed her way into your heart, and like that,” Mathias snapped his fingers, “you gave up in an instant.”

“I wanted to give up for years.” Garred went to chide further, but refocused. “...the burden of command.. it cripples ye. The battlefield took my friends, my eye, my peace of mind. And what did I get in return..?” He lightly scoffed. “A medal, some seals.. a pat on the back.” Garred hocked and spat upon the floor. “There was always someone better than me; more competent and controlled.. they-“ A laugh slowly spread through him as he talked, pathetic as it was, “-did ya know, when they assigned you four to my garrison, that they didn’t have faith? Runts of the litter, ya were, with me as the head fool.”

“...nothing comes easy,” replied Mathias solemnly. “We have to earn what we are, we aren’t owed a thing in this life.. least of all an occupation like this. My captain at sea told me that.”

“Mara, she..” The words had tasted bitter upon his tongue. “It all happened so quickly. She waltzed into me life and just.. swept me away. I felt so light with her, so.. free. I wanted the best for you all, I did, but.. the past year of me life was the best in...” His voice grew low, shaken. “Ages.”

_“Thatch is dead because of you,”_ Mathias spat, his words coated with venom. “Your love ushered in our mutual tragedy. I care not for intent, only the result.. and look where that brought us-“

“I didn’t know-“

“Bullshit.”

“When I was brought to the base, I just.. I thought nothing of.. it felt strange, like the information were being spooled outta me, but I didn’t-“

“You knew exactly what you were doing.“

Garred shot back. “I loved that girl like a daughter!”

Mathias tore himself from the chair, knocking it aside as he approached the cell. “Thatch was good.. and- and.. she was kind and you KILLED HER!” 

“Thatch was like a daughter to me!” Garred shot back with a labored cry. Mathias’ fury had quelled his own, leaving nothing but the remains of sorrow.

“A daughter you let die.. you _fucking_ coward.” 

Softly, Garred had begun to weep. A weakness in his voice which he, himself, found unbecoming. “She reminded me of my own, from years ago.. she wanted to be just like me, she said.” A frown cage upon him. “Well, she did.. and soon enough, me wife and I lost her to the throes of war. Another body for the pile. My wife, my love.. she departed soon after, couldn’t bear the sight of me..”

Mathias mirrored his frown, just slightly. 

Then, Garred had shifted, moving to sit where he could face his accuser. There was a strain in his voice, a bitterness which had built for years. “Those are the medals I receive, that is what your talk of honor and duty bring.” He growled. “Dead children. I may be but a coward, but yer a Godsdamned FOOL. I failed Thatch! I failed you all! A’right, I admit it. By the Twelve I..” A groan escaped him as he weakly began to stand to his feet. “I admit it.. I’m old and worn, not fit for command. But there are no heroes in war, son.. only victims. And survivors. Don’t try and convince me otherwise.”

Face to face, Mathias withdrew the ire behind his words, his intent. In that moment, he finally bore witness to what Garred had been all along. A fraud, pretending to be something more. The appearance of strength, shrouding a burgeoning weakness. He stepped away, turning his back to the prisoner. “You’re wrong.”

“Mayhap I am.. but nothin’ you nor I say will change what is done.” Garred’s fingers met one of the bars of his cell, his palm squeezing around it tightly. “You.. have a good heart, Mathias, ya do.”

The roegadyn looked over his shoulder for just a moment.

“It’s going to get you, and those ya care for, all killed.”

Mathias’ hands balled themselves into tightly wound fists. Just briefly. With his head down for a moment, he allowed a cooling sigh to slip from his being, then turned to face his former captain once more. “In spite of everything you’ve said.. earlier, you had requested to be a part of the operation. Why?”

Garred quietly sucked his teeth, unsure. “In spite of all that I said.. this.. is all I know. I may spend the rest of me days in a cell like this one. In all likelihood, worse than this one. Or, I’d be executed outright. From what I heard, the brass weren’t sure yet..” His eye looked down for a moment, a thought coming back to him. “I’d rather die on the field of battle, than in front of a crowd.” He paused, a sardonic glean coming on. “Always suffered from stage fright, ya see..”

“Hardly a durable enough case to convince Swift.”

“Mayhap, but.. there’s a trick up me sleeve, son..”

Mathias quirked a sharpened, curious brow. His arms crossed tightly and with concern.

“I’ve been at the Garlean base they’re speaking of attacking now.. I know the insides. I can help.”

—

Stromwell’s eyes glossed over the orange sky, littered with many a cloud as the sun began to lower itself behind them. His fingers met each other, popping them idly as a small grin spread across his lips.

“Are you prepared?” came a voice from behind him, equally commanding, sultry, and annoyed. An effective combination. 

He turned to find the spymaster from before, still adorned with her Doman armor. Her arms were crossed, the tail behind her swishing side to side. “Me and what’s left of my men, sure.” He leaned against the railings embrace, rubbing a knuckle upon the cloth of his undershirt. “I expect double the coin, though, considering our necks are on the line. It was trouble enough getting those last few Flames captured!”

“Spare me your whining. I don’t care for it.”

“You wound me!”

She let go, strolling to meet the railing which overlooked the base, same as he had been. “They’ll come in droves,” she said.

He turned back, his hands slung over the edge once more. “More the merrier, is it not? More bodies for the pile. More chances of Garlean influence to eat up further real estate. ...right?”

She hesitated, for just a moment, but still - he could briefly sense the trepidation in her following words. “The Empire gets what it wants.”

“It certainly got you, dollface.” He breathed a quiet sigh. “Though that hardly explains why you’d need us? I lost a plethora of men simply to some viera bitch and her friends.”

“My spies are everywhere,” she replied. “In every city, every village — from here to Limsa. Watching, waiting. Gathering, teasing. We plant many a seed, and I reap what I sow.” She balanced a knife upon the pad of her forefinger with ease. “Always.”

“That did not answer my-“

“I do my job.. and I do it well. A few, lowly Flames mean nothing to me. Even now, I know not their names. When I was told to give the order, it came easy enough. We desire not retribution, but compensation. A test, a means to an end.”

“Separating the chaff from the wheat?” he asked, curiously. “All I need is gil, boss. I don’t need to fly Garlean colors.”

The knife in her midst was hoisted upwards, as she caught it into a series of flips. With a flick of the wrist the knife spun upon her palm, then doubled over to be put back in its sheath. “The Empire gets what it wants.”

“So it wants.. everything?”

She shot him a glance. “You learn to grow accustomed to their demands.”

“Oh,” he immediately said, flummoxed. “Apologies, mommy, if I’m a good enough boy, do I get to wear big bad Doman armor too? What’s better than gil? Honor! The glory of service..!” He waved a dismissive hand and then pulled away, turning from where they stood together. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. My men were scapegoats, and those we were sent to kill were simply.. in the way. And now we’ve a war on the horizon?” He cooed, sardonically. “Is that not the opposite of what you wanted? Haven’t you already failed?”

Once more, she remained silent. Her tail slowed its many movements, quietly sashaying before she spoke. “This base has prisoners, it has a fuel depot, it has dozens of Garlean men ready to lose their lives in service of something greater. But it is just one of many.” Likewise, she turned, her hands gripping the railing still. “Call it a.. morbid curiosity.. the lesser their numbers, the easier it will be to inevitably storm the walls of Ul’dah. If we lose this base in the process..?” She gave her shoulders a shrug. “‘Tis an acceptable loss. There are dozens more, with supplies greater than our own, currently.”

Stromwell barked out a laugh. “And here I thought I was a cold bastard! You Garleans do so love that utilitarian mindset..”

She smiled underneath. A smile that seemed—that sounded—so, terribly confident, he almost would have believed her. “This is just the beginning.”

“If we—nay, actually—if _I_ survive this, will I get to grovel at your feet? Conscript me, as was the plan? I do so enjoy your company, Ms...” He tapped his chin, seemingly amused at himself. “I don’t believe I know your name in point of fact. Care to give it?”

She thought it over, feeling fanciful. “Oh, but I am death! I am the cold chill that runs up a man’s spine when he’s at his most vulnerable. I am the soft kiss that is a gentle breeze, just before it turns into violent.” A soft, satisfied snicker fell from her. “I am many things. I am the hand that feeds, and I am the one who bites the hand of another.”

“A paradox.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Stromwell bestowed a generous clap of his hands. “You’re fun. I like you.”

“I like me too.”

He had a shot to take, by his estimation. And so he took it. “Care to allow me to like you some more.. in private?” Stromwell wore a hearty grin, yet the sudden presence felt at his back had worked to undermine his charm. “Oh, poo.”

“Think again, Eorzean trash,” said she, warmly. From behind, another armored spy had rounded him and went to meet her spymaster. Stromwell smiled as, together, the women shot him a brief stare. 

“Oh, double the fun!”

The spymaster and her underling stood there, looking upon him silently. Nothing but ambivalence. Stromwell felt deflated in that moment, though he would hardly allow them to know of that truth. “..another time, perhaps. When there’s less war afoot..” He left the Garleans with nothing but a graceful bow. For all his bluster, he felt.. inadequate under her gaze. 

Time would tell whether he would see the morning. Though something told him, she certainly would. He gave her that much.

—

The eyes of Commander Swift were a dedicated set: Sharp, stern, filled with nothing but the utmost focus. Even as his gaze glossed over the dozens of soldiers whom encircled their center space for which to plan, he never lost it. Instead he breathed a quiet, if somewhat labored, sigh. “Several days ago, some of our men from a platoon were attacked and subsequently captured. The Garleans look to use them as bait, at their station in the east.” 

Mathias, Lenus, and Artemis were amongst the small crowd; intent upon their mutual features. Swift continued shortly, “From intel gathered it is but one of many, with dozens more to come whether we like it or not.”

“The Garleans mean war, do they?” asked a random Flame in attendance. “A war this soon? Can’t we-“

“This is just the beginning,” Swift interrupted. “The Empire and their forward operating bases are like.. weeds. Pull one, two more fill its place.”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Mathias asked. “We’ve naught but scarce few resources in comparison to their own. Can we expend the men?”

“We’ll have to,” he replied. “Ardynn has allocated us what few resources available, considering. As well as some support from the other branches. Yet this assault will not fare any easier. Lives will be lost.”

A chill spread across the room. With the dozens in attendance, among them were Mathias, Lenus, Artemis, and Garred - himself barred with a collar around his neck. Some chatter befell other members of the division, a series of talking heads with suggestions at the ready. 

Swift spoke sternly. “They’ve prisoners in their clutches, captured just days ago. Among the base lay a fuel depot to destroy, with valuable scraps of Magitek aside.. our orders are to rescue, search, and destroy. Getting inside shall prove the most difficult. Once we’ve broken through, we’ll need to split into teams.”

The Commander eyed Mathias. “Adler, you’re taking command of the remainder of your squad, and I’m assigning two more members to assist. In your employ will be Nora here,” Swift motioned towards Garred. “His bit of intel proved useful, but it is your job to watch him. The collar will react harshly per your command, should he act out.”

“Wonderful,” Garred chided. 

Swift continued to lay out the plan, as the rest of the gathering joined in. Divisions, paths to take, plans of attack. Where to go, who to follow. Garred provided what little detail he could; his inclusion still a.. questionable one, but something Mathias would handle. Altogether, the meeting was well underway for what felt like mere minutes. Every member fraught with a mixture of dread, excitement, and anticipation.

Before things inevitably came to an end, Swift continued. A lasting message to leave them all with. “We are the light that refuses to quell. The flame in the darkness that burns evermore. Bear the torch, until the bitter end.”

The surrounding cast echoed the final sentence of his sentiment, all except for Artemis. And Garred. 

—

In the aftermath of the briefing, the dozens of soldiers were granted a shred of respite before the coming storm. To arm themselves, to prepare. 

Mathias was unable to defeat the wearied look of malaise which refused to leave his face. The pit in his stomach tingling with the faintest trace of a butterfly. Yet his mind remained focus, to the best of his ability. Though when he looked upon his shield, as he had often done countless times in the past, this look was.. different: one of uncertainty, incompleteness. His desire to become more, to bear the shield with pride, should have continued to beca tantalizing one - but now, it granted him a sense of pause. What he wanted to be was..

Well.

Artemis’ query from weeks before had returned to the forefront of his mind. 

Before the roegadyn could pay it further thought, he busied himself with something important. 

The journal lay open, its pages turned to one of the final entries. Of him and the detailed art of his face, with the elaborate markings Thatch had ascribed. With a careful touch, he dabbed the pads of his fingers into the small jar of ink, and brought them to his face. Slowly, he traced along the sharpness of his eyes and brows. He studied the markings, ensuring the paint fit as closely to the origin as possible. When he looked upon himself in the mirror, he seemed a new man. The markings a reality he could bear, in the end. Were she there, he did not know what the elezen would think of him. He gave it thought, too much thought. As he always did. With a quiet sigh he stilled his mind, looking at himself once more in the reflective visage. 

Any shred of doubt or uncertainty receded, his face falling into something much more resolute.

He strapped the shield to his back afterwards, knowing well of what awaited him. 

—

Artemis dragged the sharpener across the serrated kiss of her axes edge. It was hers now, truly hers. Something initially simple yet effective, now weathered into something more. In a short time, the weapon was modified. Sharpened, extended, reinforced. The brunt and bloodshed her axe absorbed had made itself a part of her, whether she wanted it to be or not. Armored up, the thought of the death to come had, in some small part of her soul, chilled her. Just the faintest bit. The wars she would face, in one way or another.. the thought seemed daunting. It would be, it already had. 

Lenus kept his eyes upon one of the remaining conjurer books, motioning one hand faintly. “Like that, huh..”

“What?” she asked aloud.

Lenus seemed offset. “O-Oh, sorry- I’m just talking to myself again.“

She hummed. The viera hummed in a way the hyur was not sure whether it was satiated or distasteful. His gil was on the latter. 

“...we’re going to be okay, Arte,” he added, setting the book down. Page upon page of destructive spells, poisonous effects, and more having started to bleed together. He rubbed his eyes. “We are.. right?”

She said nothing, dignifying his response with little else but a brief look of what he discerned as a distant sort of determination. The viera seemed colder, quieter, but not in an unkindly way. He knew, a part of him did at the least. He bore the brunt of the chilling moment of awkward that followed. “I’m sorry,” he said, despite himself.

“We’re going to be fine, Len.”

Something had boiled inside him, spurred by the fear that she, truly, could be wrong. Weeks. The hyur had weeks to mull over his feelings, to attempt his overcoming of inadequacy and envy to try and be something more. Something better. For himself, and for her. The thought of losing her was something that left him restless, bereft of slumber. He could not live with himself if he didn’t articulate how he felt.

“Artemis.. if- if something happens to one of us out there..” He swallowed hard, withstanding the anxiety barreling itself towards him as her eyes looked upon him. “I want you to know that I-“

A knock upon the Barracks door echoed across the room. Several gentle but firm tap-tap-taps before the roegadyn entered, in that moment, to Lenus’ dismay.

Though the first thing he and the viera noticed was the look upon Mathias’ face.

She narrowed her eyes into something of a squint, a small smirk on her lips. “Fanciful warpaint, bub,” Artemis said, his intent unknown to her. “I like it.”

Lenus agreed. “Y-Yeah.. helps make up for the scars.” He motioned around his face, in a jest. “It’ll, you know, give you character.”

Mathias, in spite of himself, had smiled at that. “I hope you two are well, but.. the commander tells me it’s almost time. We need to move.”

With some reluctance, Lenus and Artemis both stood with their gear in tow. She moved first, ever the proactive, while the roegadyn and hyur shared a brief nod. 

Though, before the viera exited, she turned to bestow a lasting comment. “Be careful out there,” she said in earnest. “Both of you.”

Lenus blushed, almost stammering. “I- I-“

She sighed. “Get help.”

Lenus countered quickly. “I do have help!”

“I’m help,” Mathias added.

Artemis felt as though leaping off a cliff was preferable to what she was dealing with now. “You’re both idiots. You know that, right?”

Mathias and Lenus slowly shared a look, before the roegadyn confirmed with a small smile. “...I believe we are well aware.”

The brief, jovial nature with which they partook was a sensation not felt in.. some time. Not since before the day that befell the squad. It was.. pleasant. A moment of humor and respite before the coming storm of swords. The three held on to that feeling, to varying degrees.

They would need it. Mathias muttered only a few more words. “We must press on,” he said in earnest. “We can’t give up.”

Time would tell how well his words would endure.

—  
 **No Sacrifice Too Great**  
—

With every beat of the drum, every footfall of their steps through the mud, past the rock, across the fields. The sweeping battalion that was the Immortal Flames with their heaps of support had become ensnared by the embrace of nightfall. The plan was clear, the objectives concise. Break past the wall, no matter the cost. For all the preparedness and forward camps that stood just outside of view of the Garlean base, it accomplished little in having many of the soldiers ready. Truly ready. For many it was a first for them, for just as many it was but the norm. A horrid repetitiveness fraught with bloodshed and sacrifice. 

For Mathias, Artemis, and Lenus, the shell shock of forthcoming battle left them wracked with a wave of dread, of pressure and savagery. When the army marched, meeting the dozens of Garleans whom awaited their charge, they met in a thunderous clash. Swords sparred, lives were lost, bodies and limbs flew from the result of artillery fire. Vanguards, machines, whittling down the forces just outside the bases protective wall proved the most arduous.

There was.. fear, in the crowded heap of chaos and dismay. And through that sensation another had come clear, savagery. The soldiers tore through what they could, barely avoided what would tear through them. Blood, grime, and sweat littering the bodies still standing in the wake of war. In particular, Mathias and Artemis were forced to employ the harshest of attacks, tearing through any Garlean that worked to pit themselves against them. Garred and Lenus, similarly, were forced to endure the wealth of cold, cruel steel. The former bound by his collar that would go off at the slightest hint of further betrayal. Still, it seemed.. almost easier for them, in a way. A certain distance met, heals and arrows abound. Whereas the other two tanked their way through a wealth of bodies, eager Garlean men and women who saw fit to lay down their lives for something greater.

When the remainder of Stromwell’s forces rounded the battlefield, coming to attack from behind, having just laid waste to the Eorzean forward camps, the soldiers were caught in a pincer. Sharpened steel plunging itself into the durable shield that was the Eorzean hopes of success. 

Amidst the chaos Swift’s order came clearly, a vicious command in a wealth of screams and battle cries. Forward, not one step back. No matter the cost.

Mathias had not the time to dwell, to dawdle idly with a thought to muse upon his situation. Only fleeting moments. Terms. What honor had wrought, the weight of a medal or a pat on the back. He wanted to slay Garred there and then, the likelihood of the traitors survival otherwise having left him.. cold. Even when his blood ran so terribly hot. 

With haste, a shred of Eorzean forces managed to—barely, just barely—breach the outer defenses and worm their way inside with a violent fury. Several Garleans order to retreat, with future choke points to make use of. Even with Swift’s command to push onward, it all felt a.. blur. An incomprehensible series of traumatic, blood-soaked images that would refuse to leave the minds of those who might endure. 

One thing led to another, Mathias recalled the commands he gave to the other troops. Several going one way, several heading the other. But there was a certain lack of detail, amidst his recollection. No true thought, but instinct and what was most tactically advantageous. He, along with Garred and a handful of soldiers, worked to find as many prisoners as they could before destroying the depot. The explosives handily with them, in the possession of one of the new members under his squad. His own squad.

Whereas Artemis he deemed to lead the other splintered branch, taking her, Lenus, and dozens more to destroy and recover what they could. The faster they completed the objectives, the quicker the horror might end. 

—

Artemis led her band of soldiers through the illuminated steel of the base, finding her distaste strong with every step of the way. For every Garlean slain, they pressed onward. Lenus buckled, wiping the grime from his features as his process of healing continued. Whom he could not save, or failed to, he tried twice as hard for those remaining. For any Garlean he managed to kill, his attempts to keep alive those who fought alongside increased tenfold. Above all, her. Scarily, she seemed.. of a cooler mind than the others; reserved, focused. No less brutal in her approach, her grace of skill. The viera remained as refined as ever, effortlessly toying with her axe as it slew a wealth of foes. The flesh of fallen invaders did little to weather the others, though she appeared.. behind her look of ferocity, distraught. Disgusted. 

When he was not able to focus on her, the battle demanded further attention. They lost several men along the way. Rows of arrows, sword clashes, lasers, explosions - an orchestra of warfare Lenus seemed only somewhat prepared for. His work ethic intensified as they salvaged what tech that they could, slaughtering those who dared linger to fight back.

Yet aught seemed amiss. He, along with several more, could feel eyes on them. The sensation of being watched was an unnerving one; vicious, dagger-like eyes. As if they were rounding themselves up into a ploy. Cactuar to the slaughter. 

Artemis gave clear direction, until her visage caught wind of a silhouette she knew - she knew - from weeks of recollection. Stromwell had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, a specter to taunt her specifically. 

The remaining soliders awaited her next command, yet she was caught. Frozen. All her vision could see, being red. 

Lenus knew the look. “Art.. Artemis, wait-“

She took off after her sisters killer, abandoning the rest to stir amidst their uncertainty. 

Lenus, despite the best of intentions, told the others to complete what they could—before he ran off after her. He refused to let her go.

—

Garred plunged yet another arrow into the back of a Garlean defender, one more footsoldier added to the growing mass of bodies the night had wrought. Under Mathias’ lead, he and the others moved quickly and with haste, slicing through any defenses in their way. Similarly, harsh eyes were felt at every angle - another watchful look permeating their descent into warfare and destruction. 

One by one, another Eorzean was cut down. Some from the wealth of foes in their path, others from.. somewhere, seemingly on-high. A dagger to the skull, into their backs. Once more it all felt to be a blur, a haze of soldiering that kept Mathias on a sort of autopilot. No thought but action. 

“Y’aright, son?” Garred said as Mathias blocked the incoming fire of several bolts with his shield. “Don’t tell me yer enjoyin’ this.”

“Quiet,” he harshly replied, slamming his boot against the unlucky face of Garlean to meet the nearby wall in a hard crunch. “We’re almost to the depot. Jenkins, are the explosives intact?“

The elezen replied nervously but in confirmation. “A-Aye, sir. They’re safe with me!”

“Good.”

Ducking into a skybridge that led from one side of the complex to their destination, they increased their motions. The wealth of industrial Garlean might on display. Their technology, their architecture. They worked fast, planting roots wherever they saw fit, which they deemed to be almost everywhere. The Empire would get what it wanted, but not this night. Mathias fueled himself through spite alone as they made it to the other side, only to be caught in a siege.

Several of the remaining Garlean foot soldiers were used as cannon fodder, with the sleek, imposing steel of Doman armor in the distance. Two silhouettes, blades at the ready. Mathias cried for his remaining few to get behind him, blocking the oncoming fire with his shield once more. 

It did so for only so long, withering as the few were blown back. Garred stuck another arrow in one of the soldiers, just before getting stuck with a blade from one of the Garlean spies. He pushed Mathias out of the way from the approach of another, getting stuck twice. With a grunt, Mathias lobbed his shield at the remaining soldiers, its embrace caving in the windpipe of one as it bounced back to him. And then he ordered for his survivors to run, to duck into the maintenance shaft on the far side - another approach to the depot.

The spies seemingly allowed for their escape. Prey to hunt, food to toy with. Right as Jenkins was the last to make it. Mathias slammed his fist against the panel for the entrance to the shaft to close. “Hurry, Jenkins!”

The elezen was stuck with a dagger thrown to his throat, blood spurting forth as he mustered the last of his strength to toss Mathias the explosive device. Just before the entrance sealed shut.

The roegadyn held the device close, slamming the wall with a harsh thump before forcing himself to proceed. Garred held his side, no snark to deploy. He hadn’t the energy nor the heart. 

Mathias brushed past him and their remaining ally. They pressed on. 

—

Led into a command chamber of sorts, the sweeping center devoid of Garlean personnel. All except for him. Under the color of red illumination, he wore a devilish grin as she entered. “Evening, darling. I’ve missed you!”

Artemis cared neither for his words nor what room she might have been in. The details mattered little when all she could see was the fiery visage of hate fueling her every move. She leapt at the rogue, a vicious cry emanating from deep in her chest as she brought her axe down. The pair clashed in a thunderous clink of steel, before her strength overpowered his own.

Stromwell pulled back, sliding out of the way just before she could hand another hit. And then the two played a game of chase; the rogue never allowing her to come too close too often, too quickly. They would leap at each other, trading a bout of blows, but he would always concede. Refusing to let himself linger, using her brute force against as, in the process of their duel, she made quick work of the chamber. Sliced to ruin, sparks flew as they continued their clash of steel. 

“Still mad, are we?” he yelled, dodging another swing of her might. “A shame! Anger does little for your health! Think of the wrinkle—“ To his surprise she had decked him, anticipating his next maneuver - telegraphed as it was - yet just before she could go in for the kill, he hit with a surprise of his own. A smaller knife right to her side, just as Lenus rushed in.

He cried out to her, angrily flinging a destructive spell to break the two apart. Stromwell was sent flying, crashing back into a terminal as the hyur fled to Artemis’ side. He placed a healing touch to where her wound had developed, after she yanked the blade from her form.

Despite himself, Lenus was overcome with a decisive rage. A feeling he refused to acknowledge for weeks, now bubbling over at an uncontrollable rate. He moved from where she knelt, herself a frozen pit of simmering anger, as he went to finish Stromwell off, himself. Enough was enough. This was the man hired to kill them all, this was the man who took Thatch away from them. As much as Artemis’ fury terrified him, it was a rage as sympathetic as it was shared. 

He struck the rogue with another blast, damaging him still and, yet, Stromwell moved. To Lenus’ ire, the rogue struck him with several hard blows to the body, to then blast him away with a ferocious kick. Lenus fell back, down a single story to land upon his arm - a harsh crack heard as he hit the ground, doubling over. 

Artemis’ eyes witnessed the act, and then her eyes glowed a bright, violent red.

—

They saved what few prisoners they could, losing the remaining ally in Mathias’ portion of the squad in the process. As they moved, Garred had slowed. His wounds worse than the roegadyn let on. With a final push, with haste, the two men made it towards the entrance to the depot. A reinforced area with not much security, but only one exit - the door in front of them. 

Mathias hesitated, the sweat coating his skin making him feel heavy. His muscles desiring nothing but the art of giving up; to falter, to kneel. “I’ll plant the explosives, you wait here.”

Garred looked at him. “Adler, ya can’t do this and also go save yer friends.”

Mathias met his gaze with ferocity. “We’re almost through, we just need to-“

“Give the order.”

“...what?”

“..look at me, the Garleans got to me. No healer in sight. I’m not long for this world. And armin’ that thing.. ya can’t just leave it.” He paused, as the roegadyn coughed up a heap of blood. “This was designed to be a one way trip. Give the order.”

Mathias hesitated, looking at him once more after gazing through the window at the depots embrace. His thoughts slowed to a crawl, focusing on the present moment.

“Ya wanted to fill my shoes. Well, here we are. Consider this the final lesson.”

Mathias came to his decision faster than expected, despite the mounting angst that dwelled in his heart. He did so—not because a part of him still wanted Garred dead, not because a part of Garred himself desired death—but because, in the end, it was for the good of the mission. A weight to carry, a burden to bear. Mathias would bear many. His gaze was resolute. “Go, arm the explosive.”

Weakly, Garred took the explosive device from him. “Aye, sir.”

The two shared nary a word, following that. As Mathias turned to leave, himself shaken from the events of the night so far, he lingered with one last look to give. Garred nodded at him, solemnly. And then, Mathias left, doubling back to do whatever it was he could.

Left alone, Garred did not sigh, did not mutter. He simply held the device close, and entered the depot with urgency.

—

With a furious roar, Artemis glowed a violent light as she was enveloped with the rage of a beast. She leapt at Stromwell, who narrowly dodged a thunderous swing of her axe which cleaved a terminal completely in two. 

Stromwell buckled, yet another woman who made him feel horribly small in comparison. In the same day, no less. He would use her fury against her, and yet, even then, it would do him no good. For every blow he dodged, she countered. For every jab he thrust, she bore the brunt of with ease.

Even as a few Garlean troops entered, foolishly, he watched as she quickly spread around the chamber. His vision collected the sight of her tearing them all limb from limb, bodies sliced through and cut down. In that moment, true to form, he considered running. He had ran his entire life. It was the only true thing he excelled at. 

He underestimated her. And, as she stood near the entrance - the only way out - her silhouette burned with a ferocious appeal. She would be his undoing. 

Woe to the fool, cut down by the crimson queen.

—

The sounds of battle had seemed to cool, as far as Mathias was able to tell. With luck, victory was nearly in their collective grasp, in spite of the mounting losses. He moved quickly, finding little resistance in the way as most were either dead, hiding, or in retreat.

When he found the last two prisoners, he quickly made short work of the locks which bound them. Once free, the prisoners he rescued seemed.. shaken, distraught. 

A dagger from the dark had pierced each of their skulls, the roegadyn stumbling back as further blood spurted on to the armor of his chest. He turned, shield at the ready with his weapon drawn, to see only one of the supposed spies leaping down from the rafters. 

She landed with a loud thud, the footfall echoing across the hall. He braced himself, anticipating her to employ the quickest maneuver. And yet.. she did no such thing, she simply strolled, slowly, towards him. 

The sight sent a chill up his spine. 

“I recognize that stance,” she said, her voice simultaneously muffled and amplified by the mask she wore. He could not see her; yet another faceless villain to cut down those he held dear. It sickened him. He gave her no response, only sharpened his stance. She hummed. “Hmm.. yes, another wannabe knight, no? I cut the previous one down to size. Pray tell me, will you be as incompetent as he was? Or a touch more.. fun?”

“Silence, you deplorable-“

She shushed him with a tut-tut-tut, waving her finger to and fro. “Don’t. I’ve heard your shtick before, a thousand times.”

“...it doesn’t have to be this way,” he said, in a moment of earnestness despite his growing rage. 

She cocked her head, a small sigh escaping her. “Apologies, darling; but yes, it does.”

Quickly, she tossed another knife his way. A set of three. He raised his shield as they plunged into it, one after the other. Briefly lowering its embrace, he spotted her rushing at him with intensity, sending a harsh kick to the front of the defensive piece of hardware. The blow sent him sliding back, further than he anticipated. Mathis countered by mustering the strength to swing at her, lobbing the shield as it soared across the field.

The spymaster flipped backwards, almost dancing over its embrace with a great unlike anything he had seen. To his shock, she caught the shield, and used her momentum to throw it back at him. 

The roegadyn barely caught it, sliding further back still as she went in for another attack. The pair were caught, then, in a flurried clash of blades, dancing back and forth. His single broadsword in a constant meeting with her two curved blades, a deadly kiss. She almost crooned as he jabbed her with a harsh knee, and then brought his sword down to meet where hers crossed in a defensive block. 

Even then, he was holding himself back. 

“Stop this. Now! It’s over!”

“Oh, I _love_ killing big fuckers like you. Makes me feel good about myself. When the reports came in, I almost wanted you left alive, allll to myself. The others.. they were easy to order against.” She jumped back, a flurry of twists as she moved away. She curled one blade, spinning it amidst her palm. “I must say.. I did expect a touch more fight in you, considering your girlfriend is dead.” Underneath her helmet, she wore a wicked grin. “What’s the matter, boy? Not man enough to avenge her after all?”

Rashly, anger spread through him - the frustrations of the day spilling forth as he rushed at her. Just as she desired. They met once more, another furious clash of steel, one after the other. Though, in his haste, she used his strength against him, sending his sword flying from his grasp, slipping free and falling over the railing of the story they stood upon.

To her surprise, he wracked her with a hard bash from his shield, sending her flying back into the wall to their left. Her body left a dent as she came crashing down, heaving slightly. With a damaged glove, she slipped it from her wrist and quickly slid out of the way just as he bashed into the wall. He spun, moving to strike at her with his free hand, and she countered with a swipe of her claws. The mark broke his skin, but he paid it little mind as he still rushed forward.

She slid underneath him, easily moving between his legs to turn and claw at the armor upon his back. “There we go!” She cried, elated from a twisted joy. “Maybe you’re worth a shit after all!”

Mathias spun to meet her with another, hard bash of his shield. The miqo’te was rocketed backwards, her armor battered as she clashed against the railing. Mathias rushed forward, hoping to strike her down to the depths below but, once more, she countered. Slipping out of the way, he barreled into the railing and crashed through it. The roegadyn fell to the story below, landing harshly, his palm and boot the only thing to sustain the blow. His body cried out, an ache spreading through it unlike the ones he had felt before. His skin felt hot, his eyes watering. His insides wracked with an insidious chill. 

As the realization that she had poisoned him settled in, she leapt off to land upon his shoulders. She ripped the helmet from his head, her thighs squeezing around his neck. 

He gasped for air, the sides of his neck restrained and lacking. He struggled, stumbling forward as she hissed. “Fucking fools. Coming here expecting a display of heroics! Eorzeans are...so....predictable..”

Mathias, barely, managed to yank her off. With a yell, he threw her down unto the floor, after the harsh landing he kicked her away. The shield strapped to him had fallen from his grasp, clattering to the floor. Useless now. 

Even as she doubled over in pain, she raised to her feet. Ever the fighter. “O-Oh.. a cute face for someone so big and dumb.. I like that in a man.” 

She rushed forward, and the two were met in a show of hands. Trading one blow after the other. His hit harder yet they barely landed. She moved. The miqo’te moved like a bolt of lightening crackling amidst the sky, countering the earthquake of his thunderous blows. She struck him, again and again, drawing it out. No blades to pierce his flesh yet. She landed several swings to his face, then narrowly dodged another one of his blows. 

She brandished one of her remaining blades. With him lacking in neither sword nor shield. And still, he prepared himself. Underneath her helmet, she continued her grin. Oh, she liked his persistence.

—

She had him at the end, no fight left to muster as ounces of blood pooled inside his mouth. Even in his injured state, he wore a tired sort of grin; some of the blood spilling from his dried lips. “W-Well.. you got me, sweetheart-“

The growl that came from Artemis had resonated across her form, even to his own and beyond. In that moment she was.. someone else, something else. A banshee set free from the shackles of civility and restraint. The glow in her eyes was a wicked one, a glow which would have melted the features from his face were it any more intense. “You’re nothing,” she spat. “Nothing but a worthless sack of filth.”

He tried to laugh, yet couldn’t, doubling from the pain. “Sweetheart.. had you the appropriate gil.. I could have helped you and yours take this place d-down.. that’s how little I—gllrk-“

Artemis tired of speeches, tired of the musings of men wrought with deception and greed in their hearts. The curve of her axe quickly met his abdomen and, like so, the slash allowed an ounce of his insides to spill forth. His words were no longer coherent, merely a mess of screams. Jumbled, blood-curdling. Stromwell fell to his knees in a hard thud, his hands desperately clutched to the wound she had left him with. 

In a swift moment, she allowed time to still. Naught a single shred of fury was permitted to push her to act. The greatest thread of vengeance left to pluck at was one of a horrid moment, lingering for what seemed to be eternity. In that moment, she felt awash with an incorrigible rage which left her chilled. Her boiled blood freezing from the kiss of an anger that coursed through her. She wanted to scream; to shout and cry. At herself, at those she was growing close to, at the world itself, the Gods, the evil of men. Everything. 

Then, the thought of her mother filled her mind. Her siblings. And then, Thatch.

Tears soaked with anguish had pelted Stromwell’s face, the bloodied buccaneer glancing up at his undoing. His eyes were left with nothing but pain and despair. His life, in so few of seconds, felt as though it lasted for weeks. A part of him could have smiled, in the end. He was right. So far.

Artemis, with nary a sound, brought her axe down unto his head; the harsh steel meeting his scalp in a swift slice which led to the horrid crunch of bone and then, the thick gush of flesh beneath. Her axe slung halfway into his skull, and she let herself simmer. To her dismay the sight proved unsavory, void of relief. No, true satisfaction. Not for the sake of her well-being. She gripped the handle and pulled back with a hard yank; in doing so, part of Stromwell’s skull came with it, clattering to the floor in a wet chunk. Her grip tightened, her teeth grounding against one another. All she could muster the thought of was Thatch’s face. Her smile, her brow, her eyes. The way in which her life left them.

Artemis yelled, an animalistic boom of frustration before she swung again. Tirelessly, needlessly. To and fro, her weapon met the remains of her sisters killer, hacking away at his despicable, lifeless body.

Lenus had weakly pulled himself from the small shreds of debris which covered him. There was an ache in his leg who could not describe, gritting his teeth as he stumbled to his feet. His vision bore nothing but the horrible allure that was the woman he had, ultimately, fallen for long ago. He felt tired, stupid, and afraid. Yet, even as the queen of crimson tore into her final victim, something compelled him to move. To press further.

Concern.

She was more than this, better than this. And simultaneously, she was lesser. In his eyes she was everything: a savior, a destroyer. A so-called monster whom he fancied endlessly. But above all, she was a woman. Caught with a pain neither would overcome so easily. And with grief, came rage.

“Arte..” he weakly said, her form unaware to his presence. The sounds of a sickly sharp thunk accompanying tired, frustrated growls being the only orchestra they knew. “Artemis, please, stop.. it- it’s okay, it’s-“ In his haste, he moved a touch too quickly. When his palm met her shoulder, the intensity in which she spun on heel had left him shell shocked. She slung an elbow into his abdomen, a hard hit followed by the rough embrace of her axes pommel to his feet. Two hits sent him crashing back, hard upon the ground. The hits, and the pain that followed, left him delirious - but the sight of her, fueled and blinded by a warrior’s rage, had flipped a switch in his mind.

With a raspy, weakened cry, he deposited his last act. A hand held high in submission. “A-ARTEMIS, STOP! IT’S ME!”

Her axe was raised above her head, to the side. Her hands gripping tightly at the wooden sleeve. Yet her pounce had soon slowed, an intensity to her movements that was once there, now gone. The two shared a look. His wearisome gaze meeting the malicious glow that was her own. 

Then, a glint of realization filled her vision, her pupils shifting with the slightest furrowing of her brow. The reality that was the feeling of scars upon her skin, adorned by the coating of blood and grime. The weight of her axe. The tightness in her chest, the pure adrenaline which rocketed her from despair to vengeance. And the look of Lenus. A person who, despite her best efforts, managed to care about her anyway. Truly, deeply. Even if he were sloppy and misguided, he risked himself to come to her. And here he had been. Bloodied, beaten. A look of terror behind the loving concern in his eyes. 

He was afraid. Genuinely. And from the look of it, not solely for himself.

But for her.

Her arms lowered with her axe in tow; the distant sounds of battle a murmur amidst the heated moment shared between them. The weapon she worked hard to refine slipped from her grasp, clattering unto the floor - and with that, so had her knees. Sore, aching. Her hands weakly reached towards him, a wealth of tears spilling from her as words began to fail her. As they always had.

She clutched his surprised face, causing the hyur to tremble and give the slightest blush. And then she hugged him, a horrid moan of anguish muffled only from the padding of his armor. She cried as he held her, the both of them shaken from the outpouring of hatred and warfare. Two sides of the same, destructive coin. 

—

When the spymaster spun her dagger, the length of which having chipped at his jaw, she did so with a labored sort of smile. One he still could not see. Yet, in her eyes, she had seen much. The pain upon his face, the malice in his golden gaze. It was delicious, even if something deep within her felt of a different mind. 

With a yell, she went to slunk it into his shoulder yet he quickly deflected, elbowing it from her grasp with a hard jab. She laughed, ducking from a blow of retaliation to hit back twice as hard - in a different way.

Sweat dripped from her brow, an ounce of desperation in her actions now as pointed fingers jabbed at the muscle where his right arm met the wealth of torso. Mathias winced, a numbing sensation befalling him as the arm struggled to muster before collapsing. Pressure points, a speciality. Hurriedly, he spun out of her path to counter with a swing of the backfist from his left hand. The spymaster was knocked back, crashing roughly into the wall near them. He struggled to move, then. The exhaustion, numbness, and poison working to slow his motivation to a crawl. The roegadyn fell to a single knee, his hand clutching the tricep of his inactive arm. His chest heaved; the need for vengeance strong in his soul even as his flesh failed him. His brow sharpened with determination as she recoiled, quickly hitting him with a searing, roundhouse kick.

The steel-toed boot crashed against his jaw, sending blood flying from his lips as he spun from the impact and slammed backwards unto the ground. Having forced him upon his back, his head slamming against the steel of the floor, the miqo’te straddled him then, her form covering only so much of his own and, yet, in that moment she felt insurmountable. A wealth of spice and snark that would have crowded his lungs, no air to breathe as she stole it for herself. 

She was enjoying this. 

Her own chest heaved as she settled atop him, one last dagger to dispatch, clutched between both hands as she struck it down upon his face. And, with his sole functioning arm, his wrist moved to block it - the tip of her blade a hairs breath from his face; his eye. The pair struggled, her tightened grip against his own as the blade shook from the restraint. 

—

In his final moments, he was alone. Garred sought some shred of poetry in that. Wanted his last few minutes to be meaningful, in the end. Whether they were, then and there, he would not know. With the explosives primed, his bloodied hand weakly removed itself from the contraption, his body refusing to move any further as he slumped against the wall of the depot; upon one of the many pieces of magiteck resources. He clutched at his side, almost laughing at the irony of his situation were it not for the lack of air in his wounded lungs.

With no breath left to muster, he began to slip away. Not knowing whether his part in the mission will have mattered, whether it would be enough to account for the sins of what he had done. 

His eye closed; his mind tired and caught in a haze. A part of him knew the truth. A small part. 

—

With his wilting strength, the daggers edge eased itself closer to his features. The strain in his eyes clear to see. His faceless killer, her sultry tone. The impersonal mood it set had darkened his thoughts, the poison weakening him all the more.

She struggled. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Can’t get it up?” The spymaster reapplied her grip, tightening against the handle as she attempted to thrust it downward. “Just.. let go. You don’t have to fight a-anymore.” The pair struggled still, his teeth gritted the same as hers was, the sweat beading upon his brow. With a yell, she plunged the blade past his defense, jabbing against the brow just above his right eye. He winced, a gnarled groan escaping him as she dragged it downwards, slowly, down the brow and across his cheek, blood pooling into the ink of his weathered marking. 

He screamed, allowing the scar to continue in order for him to muster the last bit of strength to slam his fist against her side. Mathias wracked her world, sending the miqo’te crashing unto the floor, a piece of her helmet having come undone. She held her side, her head caught in a mild sort of daze as she doubled over.

He barely managed to stand upon his two feet, weakly wiping the blood from his face. The wound stung like the serrated embrace that was her deadly kiss, a scar which would never leave. Even with both eyes intact, his right eye remained briefly closed just from his wince. Blood trickling still, even then. Under those next few moments, his mind was fraught with conflict. The need for vengeance, born from a need for service and a want for love. Yet he felt it twist him, degrade his sensibilities. Under those next few moments, he remembered never wanting to kill another soul. Yet that was who he was. Time and again; the bandits, the mercenaries, the imperials. When push came to shove, when diplomacy failed, desperation took him. He knew it best to leave; to abandon the miqo’te to her fate and evacuate before half of the base went up in flames. 

He limped over to her, a mixture of emotion in his heart, unable to see her face from how she lay. 

She came to life then, jabbing her boots roughly against his knees, then quickly sliding under the roegadyn, between his legs. She recovered, moving to leap and leave his neck with a harsh snap and yet he spun on-heel. His hand clutched at her just as she jumped, his fingers wrapping around her throat. 

As the base eroded around them, the moment fell to just between the two. No war, no destruction. Mathias’ grip struggled, the same as her own desperate clutching against his grab. With both eyes opened, he looked upon her: the faceplate damaged, having unveiled her line of sight. Her big, bold eyes.

Where he expected the look of malice, he saw it. Yet he saw more. A few, minuscule specks of something beyond hate. Pain, despair, need.

Guilt. 

The look of fury upon his face faltered in those next few seconds, his brow furrowing the slightest bit. His heart stilled as the reality of their situation had settled in, at long last.

His grip upon her lessened, softening. He was more than a killer, he needed to be. When gold met green, something stopped him. 

That was when the depot erupted in a fiery explosion, setting parts of the base aflame as structures crumbled and blew. Mathias and the spymaster were rocked from the nearby blast as it trailed up the structure where they stood, and the pair were sent flying off, crashing downward into the pits of debris below. 

—

Once the explosion had ruptured a wealth of the Garlean bass, the battle was soon to be one. Much of the Eorzean forces still remaining, had withdrawn from the premises to reach a safe distance. Bloodied, battered, suffering severe losses. While the base inevitably proved a ploy, the brass would consider it a success in the end, all the same. But one of many. 

Down in the fiery pits of the ground floor, debris had littered the field. What was left of the remaining structures were soon toppling over, colliding against each other. Upon a single pile of rubble, a chunk of wall was roughly pushed away. Mathias groaned, the roegadyn having been ensnared by the debris crowded around him. His arm remained numb, and the poison left him weakened still. The remaining coverage which kept him trapped seemed immovable, then, as he felt the piercing chill of a broken steel rod sticking from the side of his abdomen. Mathias lay his head back with a labored groan, a cold sheen of sweat adorning much of his skin - along with the blood and grime. 

As fire set upon what remained of the base, he simmered. The mission seemed as complete as it could have been. Prisoners rescued, technology destroyed, some Garleans dead - a message sent, one the Empire would look upon with disgust, indifference, or both. In the end, the level of exhaustion which plagued him had settled his expectations. He could perish here. A part of him could make peace with that, his only hope being that the others made it to safety.

When, in the distance, amid the flames, a silhouette appeared. A tail swishing idly behind it; to and fro. His vision refocused as she stepped closer. The spymaster, now plain to see. Her armor damaged, her strut fraught with a slight limp. And the only thing upon her face he could see having been her eyes still, her chilling, emerald embrace. She spoke nary a word, a dagger in hand as she looked down upon him. 

He expected the worst. And yet, her head turned to look elsewhere — as if it had occurred to her; the remembrance of something, or someone. She glanced back at him with conflict in her eyes, a lessened shade of malice. The grip upon her dagger tightened, despite the look in her eyes softening.

Then, she ran. Vanishing from his line of sight. His eyes closed, shaken from the ordeal—her final appearance but a complicated addition to the trauma of that night. 

—

Swift rallied the remaining forces as they vacated the fiery premises, their job here done. The casualties would mount, resulting in a wearisome report, but in the end the night belonged to them. What was not destroyed would be salvaged and studied. What was destroyed, would send a message. He knew that, they all did. Even if most were unable to see it at the time. 

He led a crowd away, ferrying supplies and the remaining wounded. Among that crowd was Artemis and Lenus; the injured hyur having been carried in her arms. To his dismay. So long did he imagine it to be the other way around, yet he-

“Ow..” he hissed, his chain of thought broken. “Arte, you didn’t have to-“

“Shut up.”

He sighed as they reached a safe distance, some stragglers on either side. Resting, recuperating. The fiery remains of the base but ample illumination under the star-filled sky, casting them all as mere silhouettes. She set him down with ease, the strain in her motions clear as she did so. The viera remained shaken still; and he knew it. Lenus rubbed his arm with a wince, having wiped the blood from his lips already. 

She savored a calming breath before having a look around. “Where is he?”

Lenus hesitated. “I- I do not know, I-“

She forced herself to stand, her eyes scouring the field for someone as tall and lumpy as him. Though he was nowhere to be found. Her eyes briefly locked with their Commander, and in the look they shared he had given his own, similar answer. Uncertainty, lest the worst had come to pass. 

Artemis stepped back, remaining near Lenus as her mind raced. The viera and hyur shared another look, before her eyes turned towards the wreckage of their claim. 

She stood, beginning her walk back.

“A-Arte wait,” he weakly said. “It’s dangerous, don’t-!”

She halted her approach, cocking her head back. _“Shut up.”_ With that, she ran, mustering the last etchings of motivation before the well had run dry. She ran with but a single purpose. Not again.

—

Worming her way back inside the wreckage of the base had fared simply enough, climbing over the debris before the flames swept the entirely of its remains. Through the chaos, she found bodies, discarded tech. She spotted Garpean stragglers, crushed by falling structures. She cared not for any brute or spy she might see. Through the chaos, it was not sight but sound that she used. Artemis dug through the remains, narrowly avoiding hazards as she listened, honing her ears for the slightest noise. She grew patient, even as her surroundings crumbled. 

With a chance, she caught wind of something. Hastily working her way to the origin of the sound, she found the roegadyn ensnared by debris. A hoarseness to his breathing. 

She came to him as yet another silhouette, one whom he supposed was but a fantasy for his ailing mind. Until her visage became clear. He stammered, his voice weak. “Ar.. Artemis, what-“

She stepped closer, silent, inspecting the damage. 

“Artemis..! Why are you-“ He grunted. “Get out of here! Leave while you still-“

“Shut up.”

His voice boomed back. “Leave now, save yourself. That’s an order!”

She pushed aside another speck of rubble, working to lift the final piece. A mounting effort that would take much. “One I can’t follow. Now help me!” 

With reluctance, he used his remaining good arm to help lift the wealth of rubble from which he was trapped under. The pair struggled, a strain in their mutual grunts as it was lifted and thrown away. 

Mathias took a breath, his body still wracked from the concoction of damage it sustained. Artemis wiped the sweat from her brow, to then extend a hand. “If I can’t give up, neither can you.”

Hesitantly, he grasped her palm. And the viera pulled, using both arms. She hunkered down. “All that muscle is worth squat if you don’t have the spine to back it up!” He yelled as he was pulled from the rods piercing embrace, slinging an arm over her shoulder as she urged for him to clutch at his wounded side with added pressure. 

“T-Thank you,” he weakly said.

She reapplied her grip, ensuring he would not slip from her grasp but also that he could stand on his own. “I’m not going to carry you too, so don’t even ask.” 

—

The pair made their way back, upon a perilous path. More structures fell, flames spreading themselves further. It was no simple task, yet the remainder of the squad were no longer so simple. The months of strife—and subsequent growth and despair—they collectively faced had worked to weather them, change them. Nothing would be the same, after that night. 

As Artemis helped Mathias out with a stumble, the pair slowly worked their way to Lenus—the hyur fraught with a relief neither had quite seen before. 

Before Lenus could exhaust his elation as they neared, Mathias vomited up a wealth of blood. The roegadyn collapsed to the ground, with Artemis turning him over upon one of the remaining cots the Flames could spare. She gave Lenus a look, and the hyur crawled over. 

“He’s bleeding,” said the hyur.

“No shit,” the viera shot back. “But look at his eyes!”

From further study, as well as the time spent in the wild, Lenus could glean the necessary information to make his assessment. “Poison,” he weakly said. “A bad kind too.”

Artemis grew impatient. “All poison is bad, you idiot!”

“Let me focus here, please!” 

She let him be, opting to keep pressure upon the wound the roegadyn sustained from the rubble. 

Lenus winced, the dislocation in his shoulder sending a shock through his system. He went to prepare a spell, something that would save him at least a shred of time, but his motions grew clumsy; tired. Feeling as though his hands moved slower than he would want them to. He grit his teeth, having to recall one of the spells Thatch had written down in her conjuring log. It could prove effective, but he-

“Len,” Mathias weakly spoke, his mind in a daze. “It’s.. it’s-“

The hyur looked the roegadyn’s body over once more. The damage he sustained: the loss of blood, the shock, the deadly poison and possibly more. Thatch’s spell would not seem enough to adequately address his wounds, but neither would Lenus’ own spell he had tinkered with previously. With a grunt, Lenus ignored the chide of his viera comrade and forced himself to put his arm back into place. The loud pop that followed startled them all, but with a cooling breath Lenus bore the pain that followed and clasped his hands. Apart, the spells would only do so much but, thinking quickly, the hyur thought to combine the healing properties of both.

He did so with haste, casting the magic upon Mathias for it to settle over the roegadyn in a shining, colorful haze. Lenus and Artemis held their respective breath in the hope that it would work. 

To his credit, it seemed to. With the whites of Mathias’ eyes returning to normal. The pale, sickly scarring upon his face beginning to dissipate. “That should.. that should be enough for now,” Lenus breathed harshly. “He’ll need further care but-“ The hyur fell backwards, off of his knees as he collapsed unto his back with another, labored sigh. 

Artemis, too, shared in the noise that he made. Wiping another shred of sweat—and blood—from her sharpened brow. She looked Mathias over, watching as the roegadyn gave her a weak, tired smile. Before he blacked out, unconsciousness taking him. 

Both men were out of sorts, shaken from the night. Their silhouettes cast against the fiery glaze that was the remainder of the wreckage in the distance. 

Artemis cast her eyes towards the stars above, and thought of nothing but her.

—  
 **Duty First**  
—

The people of Ul’dah seemed in high spirits, of late. Hearing tale of their Immortal Flames having led a valiant charge against the other; the twist of the knife that were the Garleans. The coming storm, the treacherous empire. In spite of the losses, their success would be seen as propaganda of a sort. A pick-me-up for those on political hard times. As such, some folk seemed.. happy, even.

It disgusted her.

400 soldiers entered their assault that night. 59 survived.

Swiping a finger across the bandage just above the length of her jaw, she simmered. Pushing such thoughts as far from her mind as possible. It had been some time, and now she was.. eager.

“Don’t back out now, you hermit,” chided Lenus. He almost suffered the indignity of her flicking a finger against the cast beholding his crooked arm, but she spared him. Just then. “Are you okay?”

“I’m antsy, that’s all.”

The pair walked together, leading down the winding city streets towards the Hall of Flame. With the clinic as their destination, it took ample time to see themselves in. Just before the entrance proper, they had entered the rest area. Lenus eyed the bench.

“Think he’s okay?” she asked.

“You? Caring?”

The viera rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” She pulled him along, as nicely as she could, and the two headed inside. The clinic was thick with occupied beds; the wounded, the recovering. Nothing dire, to their relief. Not then, not yet. But still the area remained dense with occupants. She and him moved along at a sheepish pace, feeling out of place in spite of the bandages and scars they themselves wore. Down the way, Commander Swift was seen marching back in a self-serious, confident strut. He left the pair with a nod; one of not just acknowledgement, but respect. Even if it were simply an ounce. 

To varying degrees between the two, the pair took some semblance of pride in that.

The roegadyn was without his top, a wealth of bandages covering his shoulder, abdomen, forearms, and face. He met them with a soft smile, despite the wearisome that was clear in his golden gaze. 

“How’s the bed?” Artemis asked, breaking the ice in the only way she knew how. “Bet it’s got nothing on rough, solid ground.”

He chuckled at that, as the two took their seats at his bedside. Lenus spoke next, a look of embarrassment upon his features. “I think she needs to work on her bedside manner..”

“No, I don’t.”

Mathias made a slight face. “Mayhap a little..”

She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t agree with him. I’ll pinch you.”

After a mild bout of laughter between the three, something not shared in some time, a glimmering of silent awkwardness permeated the space between them. Distant sounds of chatter all around, except for their own. Mathias glanced over them both, before looking away. Looking elsewhere, seemingly at something. His mind racing with thought. He briefly chewed his bottom lip, before a ragged sigh came from deep in his chest.

“What did Swift say?” Lenus asked, breaking the silence. He and Artemis shared a brief look after, then refocused on him. “H-Hopefully.. good things?”

“They’d better be,” Artemis spat, her arms crossed with a minor scowl. 

Mathias refrained from an immediate reply, his eyes still.. preoccupied with thought. “He commended us for a job well done. In spite of the casualties, it was an outstanding success.” He looked at them finally. “One that will matter little, in the grand scheme of things. It seemed hardly a dent to them, with only more bases like that to come..”

“So,” Lenus sighed. “Some news both good and bad, then.”

“I’m to receive a promotion,” Mathias added next. “Something.. similar to the position Garred had filled before. With new recruits.”

Artemis spoke first. “What about us?”

He hesitated. “Swift.. felt it best to split us up, shuffle positions around. I was told that it was advised to him, that it was the norm. I pressed my rebuttal but he would not budge. He couldn’t.” The roegadyn let slip a small sigh, having sucked his teeth. “With both of your advancements in class-training, the decision was clear.”

They did not respond. Not immediately.

“But I was able to put in at least a single request.”

“Oh?” Artemis questioned.

Mathias drew the wealth of words out, over a time. Unsure of how to convey them without a tinge of grief. “That you two, when your mutual training was complete, would remain together in the same squadron. Even if I could not.” He looked away, briefly, giving a weak smile towards one of the busybody healers as she walked by. “Swift agreed to it.”

Lenus and Artemis felt a touch of cold, the strange glimmering that was difference on the horizon. The hyur outwardly dispelled his emotion. “...that’s it? We come home decorated, and they mean to split us up?”

The viera, conversely, had retreated inward. Quelling her emotion, she saw through Mathias’ words—to the core of them. “Swift didn’t know what to make of me, did he?”

Mathias hesitated. “No, he did not. Though my tongue is often dipped with a silver ink, I.. could only request so much.” He allowed himself another, quiet sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“And what of you?” the viera asked, pointedly. “Look after a bunch of new recruits, sure, but what else? Is that all your meant to be? Like Garred but only a touch nicer?”

Despite himself, he smiled faintly at her words. “I’ve.. received some letters, some plans of travel, once I’m healed and able. Aye. People to see, hands to shake, but.. primarily I signed for proper gladiator training, finally. The teacher, she- she looks forward to my performance.”

“Guess we’re all going back to school now,” Lenus quipped, his tone betraying the intent. “But if-“

“Thank you,” Mathias interrupted, an earnest tone in his voice. “Both of you. For saving me.”

The pair remained silent, only a warm set of nods and pursed lips to accompany them. The three seemed to savor their moment of quiet; the sounds of busy city life just outside the nearby window, the soft muttering of clinical work in their surroundings. Slowly, with care as well as a wince, the roegadyn reached over to fetch something.

“Careful big guy,” Artemis spat. “I’m not saving you again so soon if you break something.”

Lenus made a face. “Arte, pleas-“

“Shut-“

When he pulled back, he did so with a book—a journal amidst his grip. A grip that shook slightly before he forced it to still. The journal looked a mite weathered, its casing an aged shade of wood. The strap which bound it safely had seemed refixed, though a touch looser than before. His words were shaken. “This was-“

Artemis interrupted. “You held on to it.”

He nodded, solemnly. “More than held, I.. I curse myself for reading. In a moment of weakness I just- I needed something. Call it closure, or.. an excuse to bolster my fury at Garred, but-“

“She wrote in it a lot,” Lenus remarked. “I can’t imagine being able to read all of it.” A soft smile came over him. “That’s the one book of hers I don’t have. Everything else is..”

The men shared a look, knowing the word. Cherished.

Yet Artemis seemed colder, a look of malaise upon her features. “Mathias, I-“

He extended his arm, slowly, pressing the journal towards her in an offer. His eyes were glossy. “She.. was our comrade, but she was your sister. It belongs with you.”

The viera looked as though she was taken aback, her eyes welling the slightest bit.

Mathias hesitated. “I- I understand if you’re displeased with me, or- or simply do not feel deserving, but she would have wanted-“ His words came to a stop when she snatched it from his grasp. Not in an unkind sort of way, but desperate. With care, her hands glossed over the outer-workings of the journal before holding it close to her chest. Lenus gave her a look, one of sorrow in his eyes but in a pleasant manner. 

She stood from where she sat, still holding it close. Artemis looked Mathias over, her wheels visibly turning. He did not know what she might say, but- “Thank you,” she finally replied. Simply and contented. When she turned to leave, she left him with a lasting remark. “Don’t be a stranger. Okay?”

He smiled as she left the men.

Lenus sighed, expelling the emotion which threatened to bubble and boil over before he made an apparent fool of himself. “Got a gift for me too?” he remarked lightly, deflecting the previous feelings with something else.

Mathias chuckled lightly. “Nay, I’m afraid.” Though he gave the notion further thought, he found himself at a loss for articulation. He felt a mixture of emotion, but could only muster something simply. “I’m proud of you, Len.”

The hyur smiled weakly. “...I’m proud of you, too.” 

He looked behind him, a wave of awkwardness coming over. “...it’s almost time for my trip, I think, and she’s-“

“Go,” the roegadyn replied. “Do what you must.” 

Lenus stood from his chair and set it comfortably aside. “She’s right, you know. Don’t be a stranger... yeah?”

With a shred of confidence in his voice, Mathias spoke simply. “We’ll meet again, brother. I promise.”

Lenus could not afford the words he wished to muster. After everything, the strength eluded him. Instead, he left Mathias with a solemn nod. But before he was able to leave proper, the roegadyn shared one final sentence.

“Take care of her.”

Mathias watched the hyur leave, allowing his words to linger. A warmth, a promise. There, seated comfortably in spite of his recovering wounds, his mind would race with thought. The past, present, and future. What lay ahead, for him and those he knew, it shook him. The variables, the possibility. The power of light and dark. Just in the past weeks alone, he had felt an inkling of that possibility. They all had.

He thought of the recruits under his command, how fiercely he desired such an idea for a time - only to now feel somber at its grace. He thought of Artemis and Lenus, their potential, their flaws, their future. He thought of Garred and Thatch, and how the pair would be with him until the end. Whether he wanted it or not. He thought of the war he and so many had collectively fought, and the many wars that were still to come. Those who would stand alone against the storm, such as he. 

There he lay, in solitude. In spite of the distant noise, he had not felt as such in ages. The fury and frustration in his life, just in the previous few months, had colored his thoughts. The draining tide that was an arduous day; day after day. He thought of his life as a sailor, and what his life might soon be. 

And, to his increasing dismay, he thought of the spymaster. Her venom, both literal and figurative. The way she moved, the way she fought. But more than that, he remembered her eyes - the sole thing he could see. Her stark, emerald embrace. And how.. it had been the most beautiful look he’d seen in another person’s gaze. She seemed beautiful, someone real. A person caught in a perspective the same as he had been.

There, alone, Mathias broke down. Tears finally falling from the roegadyn’s strained, golden gaze after having refused to do so for weeks. The grief, the fear, the rage, and the want. No longer could it be held back. Quiet as he tried to be, even then, the roegadyn wept.

—

Lenus wiped at his eyes, with the only good hand he had left for the time. His cast buckled, a small ache leftover from the battle just days before. It, and the scars upon his form, would signify much - a body weathered and worthy. He could only hope. 

Mathias’ last few words stuck with him, a weight upon his shoulders that he would happily burden himself with. If only he could overcome.. himself. His fear, of paranoia and inadequacy. His fear for her safety and what she could become. He found her outside, seated upon the bench he had eyed previously. As the suns light crept through the fold of the waiting room, it colored the interior with a soft, golden haze. The aura had complimented her form as she read, her eyes glued to the contents of the journal despite her supremely careful hands. A weak smile came upon him, as he strolled over. Quiet, contemplative.

“Hey,” he simply said, sitting next to her as she turned a page. She did not respond, not immediately. Her intent pulled by the contents of her sister’s words. Artemis was fixed in a trance, the chestnut of her typically firm eyes glossy but resolute. A tiny noise emanated from somewhere deep in her throat; not a longing sort of whine but something else, a soft sound of hurt. Animalistic in its most base form. 

Lenus had accepted the silence, letting the awkwardness wash over him and soon recede as he nudged closer, his own curious gaze looking upon the journal. He could not help himself, none of them could. 

Two of the viera’s fingers traced over the rough sketch of herself, one of many that Thatch had scribbled in her free time. A soft smile upon her lips. She turned to find another sketch. Three, in fact. One of the flower Mathias had given her, one of the roegadyn topless and seemingly flexing, and one of the viera once more—this time almost completely nude.

Lenus’ eyes widened and she quickly pulled the journal from his line of sight. 

She looked at him. “You saw nothing.”

He gulped. “Uh-“

“No, don’t speak. You’re not allowed.”

He couldn’t help but wear a goofy, if somewhat terrified sort of grin. “Okay.”

She nudged him harshly.

“Ow.”

She paged through another entry, her eyes welling slightly still. She muttered something, a series of words the hyur remained unable to hear. And it would stay that way, something between her and their fallen elezen. Lenus found peace with that. He knew.

“I’m sorry, Arte,” he muttered instead, a tone bereft of warmth.

“You need to stop that,” came her reply. Not harsh but true, earnest. “It’s okay, Len. You didn’t-“

“I have been a mess,” he admitted. “I mean, I suppose we’ve all been, but.. myself especially. With.. our duty, and with you. I’m just- I’m sorry if I’ve done nothing but bother you, constantly, with my.. with my..”

Her sharp eyes moved from the journal, to meet his own. “...I need time. And so do you.”

He stammered. “Does.. does that mean-“

Her eyes fell into a squint, idly closing the journal shut as she kept her sights set on him. “You’re sweet.”

He blushed. “Wh-“

Then, her eyes rolled with some annoyance. A soft sigh falling from her lips. “Things are changing soon, I’m not sure what will happen next, but I am sure of two things.”

“Okay..”

“There’s something inside me that.. I need to refine, to master. The feeling terrifies me and, yet, I.. like it. Traveling to Limsa.. hopefully, I’ll find the help I need there.”

“I hope so too,” he quietly said. “What’s the other thing?”

She looked back at him. “No matter what happens.. you are sweet.” Despite her proclivities, she smiled softly. “And stupid.”

Before Lenus could stumble harshly over what to say next, before he could embarrass himself with a blush or reflexively try and defend himself, the viera set Thatch’s journal safely into her bag and then, gently, pulled the hyur into a deep, comforting hug. An embrace warmer than he ever could have imagined.

And how he cursed himself for being unable to wrap his arms around her fully, to bridge the gap and complete the embrace. Once more, a situation not going the way he truly would have wanted, but.. in the end, he made peace with that. The world of difference between how things should have been and how they simply came to be. It would never be perfect, or ideal, or whatever anxious thought that lay in his mind. It was real, it was here and now. He thought of Thatch, of Mathias, and, more fully, her. 

She was so... pretty. 

And, contrary to what others might have thought, she happened to give the most wonderful of hugs. Lenus buried his head against the breadth of her shoulder. Wanting to weep, but finding himself unable. Her hug tightened, as if she knew.

The future seemed uncertain for them all, a world of possibility waiting for them and so many more. But in the face of the unknown, what grounded him was her touch. 

He could live with that. Hopefully, one day, so would she.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [@RichmanBachard](https://twitter.com/RichmanBachard) and [@RichmanSFW](https://twitter.com/RichmanSFW) to keep up with my stories, my commission info, and my insanity.


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